


Reflections of a Sound

by harryandlouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 45,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryandlouis/pseuds/harryandlouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a boy who wouldn’t talk. Louis is a secretary who wants to know why. Liam is a psychiatrist who loved challenges. Zayn is a challenge with deep anger issues. Niall couldn’t and wouldn’t stop laughing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holy Shit Liam Unhand That Boy This Instant

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first 1D fic, just putting that out there. I hope you like it!

The scribbling of the pen against the paper was interrupted by a soft knock on the office’s door. Liam Payne raised his head at the sound, thinking it was about time. He hid his pen and paper inside the drawer of his clean desk and pulled out a long, green folder from it. He opened the material and skimmed through the details briefly. Harry Styles was undoubtedly going to be a challenge in his career as a full-time psychiatrist at the Holmes Chapel Center but he always liked challenges. Most of the times, these challenges brought out the best in him.

“Come in,” Liam said, as the person entered inside his office.

Harry Styles was a teenage lad with unusually luscious locks especially for a boy, who stood quite tall considering his was only at his puberty stage and had this set of emerald green eyes that made you want to question if the orbs were real or not. Liam embarrassingly did when he examined the boy’s profile in the green folder last night. He was intrigued by the boy and it did not help that the boy standing in front him was entirely different from the picture attached to the profile.

The boy in the picture had bright, twinkling eyes and a small smile in the lips but the Harry Styles in front of him was standing aloof, his eyes dull and lifeless, like he could never be cheerful again.

Liam took a note of it immediately.

“Please sit down, Harry,” Liam said, gesturing the swivel chair in front of him. Harry sat gingerly, his purple hoodie crinkling around his long torso. Harry gazed at Liam while biting his lower lip. A mannerism, perhaps, Liam thought.

“My name’s Liam Payne. You can call me Liam. I’m going to be your new counsel from now on,” Liam droned although Harry remained unmoving at the chair. The boy didn’t even blink.

“Danielle was your former counsel, right? It’s sad that she’s leaving for the States but I’m genuinely happy for her. It’s her childhood dream, to be a dancer. I told her being a psychiatrist wasn’t really her thing…” Liam continued, earning basically nothing of a response from his patient. Usually, Liam’s patients would open up as soon as he introduces himself but well, this Harry sure was a tough nut to crack.

Well, this could get awkward, Liam thought silently as he poised himself and started business properly. He flattened his white uniform and coughed purposely.

“So uhm, Harry. I’ve seen your record and so far, so good. No fights, no everything. You’re probably my first patient who’s like that, if you must know. “

Harry bit his lower lip even harder and fidgeted in his seat a little.

“Oh no, don’t get me wrong. Of course, it’s not a bad thing. I’m grateful that you are well-behaved around here. Patients who tend to be thirsty for arguments and fights are a real pain in the arse.”

Liam was not sure if he was only imagining it, but he somehow saw the littlest of the little upward pull of Harry’s upper lip. Liam beamed him a smile. Lack of confidence and immediately anxious, Liam thought.

“Since it’s our first day, I thought I could give you a gift.”

Liam pulled a wrapped present inside his drawer and handed it to the boy with the curls. But Harry was not moving his hand to receive the gift. Instead, he clasped them both together, twisted it, looked away from Liam and bit his lip once more.

“Come on, Harry. I’m sure you’d love it. You love music don’t you?”

As soon as Harry heard the word ‘music’, his head flew instantly into what Liam was offering him. Assuredly, it was not some musical instrument of any sorts because it was a thin, rectangular thing. Liam saw Harry gaze at the gift intently but the boy still showed no sign of acceptance.

Liam forced himself not to give a long sigh and stood up from his seat, walking towards Harry. He gently left the gift in Harry’s lap, as the boy lifted his head to meet Liam’s gaze.

“It’d be wonderful if you at least open it. If you don’t like it, then it’s fine.”

Harry still chose not to do anything except look at Liam with questioning eyes. Liam was not exactly sure if the boy wanted a harder push to accept the gift or if he was merely judging him because giving a gift on a first meeting sounded like an inclination to material things. It was that or Liam was just thinking overboard. But his patient sure was reluctant.

Taking the matter in his hands, literally, Liam stooped down to Harry’s level and opened the gift himself. He tried not to think how hard it took for him to wrap the gift earlier as he stripped the wrapper from the items inside.

It was a thin sketchpad and a marker.

Liam smiled, remembering the fun he had when he bought the items yesterday. It had been a while since Liam entered the bookstore down the street from his flat and walking in the cold was very much worth it when he saw his old friend, Andy, working busily at the counter. If not for the mission of giving Harry the items, he would not have a good chat with his friend.

But the smile immediately vanished as he saw a frown in Harry’s pale face.

“Sketchpads aren’t really related to music, but you can write notes in it and a few lines here and there. I’ve heard you loved writing songs before you came here and you could read notes.”

Liam saw Harry tugged the edges of his purple hoodie and bit his lip, the third time since he entered his office. Harry held the sketchpad and the marker in his hands, still hesitant but he looked at the items like a kid would gaze at a candy shop.

Harry uncapped the tip of the marker and flipped the sketchpad open. He wrote a ‘thank you’ in a squiggly handwriting, which Liam thought was a very, very huge step. Giving the sketchpad was not really about Harry’s fondness of music but a way for the boy to open up his thoughts or feelings instead.

Liam beamed his biggest smile yet, thinking that he successfully peeled off the first layer of Harry’s thick shield.

“You’re very much welcome, Harry. I think that’s all we’ll have today. Go and enjoy your gift. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Liam said clasped his hand in the boys shoulder, squeezing it softly as a sign of an approval for the boy’s behavior during the session, his smile still yet to disappear from his face.

Harry, on the other hand, grew restless under the touch of Liam’s palm and stood quickly from his seat, too quickly in fact, that the swivel chair rolled backwards making Harry fall on the floor, face flat in Liam’s posh maroon carpet.

Not used in touching, Liam added in his mental list. And probably clumsy, too.

Liam helped Harry stand up to his feet again, checking Harry if he got hurt. But as soon as he cupped Harry’s face in both of his hands and seeing no scratches or bruises for that matter, he instantly regretted that he did because of the shock present in the boy’s features.

Great, adding a ‘not used to touching’ in your list and then touch him a second after. Genius, Payne, good one, Liam thought to himself.

“Liam, I know you’re my boss now but can you not make me buy you a cuppa because- HOLY SHIT LIAM UNHAND THE BOY THIS INSTANT!” a voice roared from the door. Liam forced himself not to roll his eyes.

“I left you alone for ten minutes and here you are, harassing someone! And a boy, no less! How about my feelings you bitch-,” the voice continued.

To Liam’s surprise, the face he was feeling exhaled a quiet giggle, distracting him from the yelling Louis, but it was gone as soon as it occurred. Harry cleared his throat, giving a stiff nod as he removed himself away from Liam.

Louis Tomlinson, Liam’s new assistant, was standing in the middle of the door that stood ajar, wearing his stupid, red tight jeans and a striped shirt and holding two cups of hot chocolate. If Louis was not his best friend, he would have already fired him for, one, not wearing proper uniform, two, for shouting so loud in this early of the day, and three, for being, well, Louis.

Harry turned and headed for the door as soon as Louis stopped yelling. Louis was still blocking the way, and Harry did not plan to involve himself with the spontaneous lad, so instead of asking Louis to remove himself from the door way, he side-stepped and went out in a sideward fashion.

Liam saw Louis examining his patient from head to toe as the boy’s retreating figure got smaller and smaller. Louis closed the door when Harry’s back disappeared from the hallway, and faced Liam.

“Wow. Alright, I forgive you. If that beautiful lad was going to replace me in your heart, it’s completely fine with me.”

“Shut up, his name’s Harry. And I told you to wear your uniform, Louis,” Liam replied, rolling his eyes at his best friend. He was in the dark as to how Louis managed to make Harry giggle when all it took was a sentence and probably a bit shouting. He had been trying his very best to get something out of his patient but all he received was a stiff nod and an almost-small smile, not counting the ‘thank you’ in the sketchpad. At least, Liam knew he very much deserved that one.

“Harry. Harry. Harry. What a beautiful name. Did you see his curls, Liam? Just wow.”

“Louis, stop checking out patients. Especially my patients. It’s against the rules.”

“Do I sense some jealousy here? Aww, you’re so cute, Liam. You know nothing’s gonna happen between us if you won’t make a move,” Louis said, waggling his eyebrows, his azure eyes sparkling with mischief. He made himself comfortable and sat at the previously upturned swivel chair.

“I didn’t know you’re into kinky stuff, Payne. Swivel chairs, really?”

Liam gave a sigh, almost regretting his decision to hire his best friend. Louis got fired from his previous job as a bartender at the local night bar . Because he wanted a secretary of his own and needed to stop Louis from getting their flat filthier and filthier everyday, after a long time of thinking, Liam finally chose to give the position to Louis.

As the sweet aroma of hot chocolate filled the room, Liam got back to business. He wrote some notes in Harry’s profile, adding a few comments to take note of. As Liam was about to return the folder inside his messenger bag, Louis quickly snatched it from his hands and read its contents.

“Hey, that’s confidential.”

“Yes. But I’m your secretary,” Louis easily quipped. Liam pulled out a second folder from his drawer instead of getting into a banter with Louis. He knew too well that he wouldn’t win. Ever. Not with Louis. He would gladly take a second patient in his hands instead.

Zayn Malik. Eighteen years old. From Bradford. Forced by parents to go to rehabilitation due to anger issues, mostly resorting to fighting physically. Excessive smoking and drinking. Used recreational drugs before.

Alright. This Zayn Malik sure was bigger and harder challenge compared to Harry. Or was it?

“Liam, this Harry lad sure is interesting. It says here that he admitted himself?” Louis said, looking up from Harry’s patient profile.

“Yeah, quite sad actually,” Liam replied.

“And the reason was not indicated here?”

“Yes. Patients have the right not to tell their purpose, but it still depends.”

“And Harry’s been here since he was twelve?”

“Yes.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know, Louis.”

“Why don’t you go ask him then?”

“Because he won’t speak,” Liam finally replied. It had been five years since Harry Styles last spoke. It was the sole reason why he was eager to know more about Harry. His records show that his vocal chords were completely fine, working and normal but ever since he lived here, he never uttered a single word. Sounds also failed to come out of his mouth, not a grunt, a moan, no anything. The whole of the institution was in the dark as to why the boy chose not to use his vocal chords.

That was the reason why he thought Harry was definitely the bigger challenge than Zayn. Zayn’s messy record could be easily pointed out to his anger issues but Harry’s clean one was still a mystery.

“Oh, can I-“

“Louis. Do you really want to get fired on your first day? I’m working here,” Liam asked, gesturing at Louis to his own desk positioned at the other side of the room. Louis stood up with crinkled eyebrows and stomped every step he took before sitting down at his own chair. Liam could have sworn he heard Louis mumbled ‘such an uptight boss, no wonder no one likes to date you’ but he let it go.

“Louis, would you mind checking what time would my next patient come in?”

“Actually, yes,” Louis glared at Liam.

“Louis-“

Louis checked his wristwatch and grinned at his best friend. Suddenly, shouts of curses from the other side of the door could be clearly heard. A loud bang at the wooden door disrupted Liam’s concentration in making something out of the curses. Zayn Malik could not be that bad, right?

“Well, Mr. Payne, just in time. Your next patient is a little too eager, don’t you think?”

Liam realized it was going to be a long day.  
__________________


	2. Who's The Fuck Up Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn's debut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback! Here's chapter 2 for ya. :)

It had been almost a week since Zayn Malik's mother enrolled him to the institution. And it was no denying that lives had turn into a living hell, not only for Zayn but also to his psychiatrists and attendees.

Zayn tried his utter best to get the fuck out of his version of hell hole as soon as he stepped down from their family car and saw the white-washed paint surrounding the whole place. To say he was succeeding was an understatement. He was on the verge of victory.

It had been barely a week but he had been handled by a whopping twelve psychiatrists and fifteen attendees. Zayn would chuckle to himself on how easy it was to piss each and every one inside the small mental institution. Zayn reeled on his speed in making his appointed psychiatrists give up on him.

The first one had been the easiest. A few curses, thrashing around and some death threats and then he was free. Zayn couldn't help but wonder how the fuck did the guy even managed to be a psychiatrist in the first place. A fucking coward, that was what he was. Shouldn't the psychos or psychiatrists or whatever be capable of handling their patients in any case? Zayn was unconvinced he was the baddest of the bad-asses around here.

Since then, the amount of effort Zayn would exert to make his psychiatrists surrender suddenly doubled. The institution would carefully choose the best doctor around to cater to Zayn's situation. Zayn couldn't decide if he was entirely glad for these changes.

For one thing, it meant somehow in some way, there may come a time that there would no longer be any doctor around who was strong enough to stick to Zayn's personality. Therefore, freedom. Or a different institution if his mother didn't really miss him.

But Zayn couldn't help but get frustrated. He didn't live to taunt doctors and their assistants. He lived to piss his enemies' asses off, to fight them both verbally and physically, not here but outside. He lived to roam outside where the skies were blue, not clinical white. He wanted to get out.

Frustrated as he seemed, Zayn couldn't help but grin the biggest he ever did since he first came to the institution. Two days had passed since his last psychiatrist and he still didn't have any until later afternoon. It never got any longer than half a day before the management gives him a doctor. It was a sign of hope, a hope that Zayn was very much sure of. This one would be going to be the last. He was sure of it.

Putting his thrashy-mode on, as he was escorted by two men in scrubs, he jumped up and down the hallway of the housing structure he loathed the most, shouting curses that aimed no one in particular. Zayn did not dare to stop, not even when they arrived at the brown, wooden door of his new psychiatrist.

Dr. Liam James Payne.

Pffbt. Even his name sounded dorky, Zayn thought.

Still yelling the rudest curses he know of except for the best ones (which he was saving for some asshole he knew he would eventually meet later in his life), he thrashed the door with a loud bang using his foot. His two weak assistants tried to stop him, but it was futile because really. Zayn didn't curse and thrash around because he just did. Zayn had this strength in him that could not be defeated easily by, well, two fucking thin excuses of assistants.

The door was still left unanswered so he kicked it even harder while simultaneously thrashing around. The assistant on his left, who looked like a horse, chose to step up and pushed Zayn hard. In which both excited and angered Zayn.

Excited because this lad was clearly asking for it, and Zayn wanted so damn much to at least show of his basic fighting skills to him.

Angered because nobody, as in _nobody_ , would ever dare push him. He wouldn't allow it, especially when he's inside some bloody institution.

"Stay still, you fuck up!" the man-slash-horse demanded Zayn and that was where Zayn snapped. He didn't tolerate name-callings. Never. Well, except when he’s the one verbalizing them.

In time as the door opened, he flew a strong punch in the assistant's jaw which made the poor fellow fly to at least three feet away from where they were standing. Zayn doubted if the assistant was still conscious.

"HOLY SHIT-" a squeak came from a fringed-haired lad who was wearing a red, tight pair of pants, rushing outside the door and attending to the assistant.

"Louis, what's the matter-"

"I'll get him to the infirmary right now," the lad called Louis replied to the brown-haired person clad in a white coat. So this must be Dr. Liam, Zayn thought. Louis and the other assistant carried the body with utmost care away from him, towards the direction of the nurse's room. Which left him and his doctor alone.

Zayn did not need any orders coming from his new psychiatrist's mouth so he decided to welcome himself, pushing through the wide open door and sitting in the swivel chair located in front of the big desk at the center of the office without waiting for any permission.

"You know you really didn't need to do that," Liam's soft voice sounded from behind him. Zayn heard the closing of the door and a loud sigh. This Liam couldn't be as hard as the others, right?

"He called me a fuck up. Who's the fuck up now, eh?" Zayn replied, chuckling as he savored the crack of bones that met his fist. It had been a while and it felt so _good_.

"You know, I can easily ring your warden and tell him to make you stay inside your room for the rest of the day until tomorrow."

_Fucking bastard_ , Zayn thought. If there was one thing that Zayn could consider okay inside the institution was the limited freedom he had in roaming the building's rooftop. He would go there every chance he got, to unwind and think of all the higher shit about life and all that. Well, who could blame him, the sky looked magnificent at the roof and one would have a great tendency to do so, because it just was. His assigned room was boring as fuck, no telly just books which he didn't give a damn about.

"You wouldn't dare."

"You dared to punch a worker in front of me," Liam said calmly, his face neutral as ever. Which kind of irritated Zayn because he had not received the reaction he expected to get from his next target, in the form of this white coat person in front of him.

"Fuck you."

"Nice to meet you too, Zayn. My name's Liam Payne and I'm going to be your new psychiatrist."

"The feeling's not mutual. You can go to hell like the rest," Zayn hissed, looking at Liam straight in the eyes. This one was going to be a pain in the ass, he knew it.

"Well, why don't we start off with how your day went? How are you this morning?" Liam said, clicking the pen he was holding in his hand, ready to scratch in whatever Zayn would say in his paper. Zayn hated Liam's face. It looked like a puppy, with large, brown eyes and tamed hair, ever-loving and kind. But Zayn knew better. He wouldn't be tricked that easily.

"It's been boring, you know, muttering a few curses here and there, vandalizing the men's bathroom in the third floor and stuff like that. Except, of course, the highlight, which was the _smack_ earlier. The past three days has been very boring too, if I may say so, ticking off every psychos like you quicker than you can say 'help'." Zayn said smugly.

"You know, the last one that handled me? He actually pissed in his pants and I wasn't even doing anything. I liked him, he was such a laugh," Zayn added.

But Liam remained unperturbed.

Instead, he lifted the telephone from its position and dialled a number.

"What are you doing-"

"Hello, John. It's me Liam. Can I ask you a favor?"

John. _John_. No fucking way. John was his warden. This guy couldn't be serious.

"Oh I'm great, don't worry about me. Now, about this Zayn-"

"STOP!" Zayn half-whispered and half-shouted. He couldn't afford to lose his remaining freedom. He couldn't miss the great, wide sky for anything in the world while he was staying in this hell hole.

"Yes, yes, Zayn Malik, do you know him? He's my patient and he's here, right now. I wanted to ask if you can keep him inside his room for-"

As soon as Zayn's mind registered what Liam was telling John on the other side of the phone, he did not waste any time. In one swift movement, he stood up from the swivel chair, took the telephone from Liam's ear and dropped it on the floor, leaving a tiny sound of 'hello? hello?' from the speaker.

But he did not stop there.

Zayn pulled Liam out of his chair with a great amount of force, his hands fisted in Liam's clean collar, and shoved him against the wall, leaving Liam open-mouthed with shock. Zayn enclosed the space between them by pushing their chests flush against each other, their bodies aligning dangerously.

"You may be the one with the fucking title, but let me just say that _I'm_ the one in charge here," Zayn whispered at Liam's left ear. Zayn heard Liam's breath hitch and savoured the feeling of the fast-paced beating of Liam's heart against his own.

For some bizarre reason, Zayn thought it was a good idea to bite Liam's ear. And so he did.

In which he enjoyed because of the tiny squeak that came out from the psychiatrist's lips. Zayn grinned involuntarily.

Zayn pushed him even further to the wall even though it seemed so impossible at the moment.

"Just so we're being clear here, the next time, I won't hesitate to pound your pretty face in."

Zayn removed himself away from Liam who seemed to be in a haze, gazing at the opposite wall like it was something significant. Zayn smirked and walked out the wooden door with a sudden positive outlook over the next few hours.

Another one down.


	3. I Like Your Hair It's Amazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Lewis' time to shine. Ha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, my endless thanks to you, wonderful reader. :)

Louis Tomlinson knew he was in big trouble. In big, big trouble as he remembered his best friend's face, telling him straight that he didn't want him to get out tonight.

Well, what could Louis exactly do, when the offer was completely begging to be snagged? And besides, what are a few drinks anyhow? What Liam didn't know wouldn't kill him, right?

Louis' ears pounded in beat with the low bass booming all across the club. He loved this bar. This was his first club in town that he went to, and this was also the one he worked at for so long. Until he resigned.

It's not as if he didn't like the place. As mentioned, he clearly loved it. The neon lights, the music, the DJ (who definitely tried to make a move on him during his first days), the customers, the drinks (oh, the drinks) and his workmates. It was perfect. Everything about it was perfect. Nothing was out of place. Nothing was wrong.

So, why did Louis resign?

Louis resigned because it didn't feel _right._

Louis knew it wouldn't be his stable job, to be a bartender. He knew he was for a different picture. A better picture. Something that doesn't just involve spinning some drinks for customers. Not that he thinks lowly of fellow bartenders (he respected them, especially Dan who can flip the shit out of any drink and anyone), but he just didn't have same passion for it as they did.

Louis wanted to start anew.

That's where Liam came in the picture. He had to lie to his best friend, that he was fired by his boss (who was honestly the sweetest guy he ever met) because he accidentally spilled some martini over the club's best client (who, again, was the sweetest girl he ever met).

Louis lied because he knew Liam wouldn't hire him if he said he merely resigned. Liam would tell him to get his shit together and take back the resignation, or man up and face the shit you caused to your life. So, instead, he opted to make him believe the saddest story in the world of a best friend getting fired over a mere spilled drink. With matching tear-stained eyes.

It helped that Liam's secretary flew abroad. Liam didn't think twice in hiring Louis as he saw how sad his bestfriend was, moping in their shared flat every minute of every day. Or maybe Liam hired him because Liam's a clean freak and it was more than obvious the Louis did a pretty good job in shoving used tissue in every tiny corner, or leaving the plates (along with some unknown gooey substance) at the sink for hours, even days. Whichever, it worked for Louis and he liked it.

Louis was sure Liam would forgive him if ever the little lie came out. If it would come out.

"Hi, is this seat taken?" a girl with flaming, red hair shouted, pointing to the vacant stool in his left.

"No, go ahead," Louis replied with a flash of his pearly whites, thinking that this maybe his lucky night.

"Thanks."

"I like your hair. It's amazing."

"Oh, uhm, yeah, well, I get that alot. Do you really think so?"

"Yes. It's looks good on you."

Louis tried to ignore the nagging voice in his head, which interestingly sounded like Liam, telling him that he was such a bastard for a best friend for not complying with one simple request of not getting drunk in a Saturday night. Although feeling guilty, he still had one big gulp of his beer that gave him enough courage to speak up once more.

"I'm Louis, are you new around here?" Louis said, offering a handshake.

"Yes, I'm Ericka. My cousin's supposed to show me around but I think he already left," the girl said while trapping his hair against her little ears. Louis liked little ears.

"Why would he leave such a pretty girl like you?" Louis started flirting, his eyes crinkled by the fake smile he was giving. The girl blushed furiously, looking so young and innocent.

"Well, he said he still had some papers left to finish and he said I could use a little time to explore by myself and..."

The red-head continued to talk but Louis wasn't listening anymore.

_Don't forget to bring me the papers, Lou. I need it Saturday night._

Oh god, he was fucked.

He completely forgot about it.

Why did he forget about it?

Louis counted the times Liam said it aloud and it was exactly seventeen times, and that's only for the fifteen minute talk he and Liam had over the phone. Holy shit. He was going to be a dead meat.

"Look, hon, sorry, I gotta go," Louis said as he kissed the girl's cheek without permission. It warmed his body a little nonetheless, and wasn't surprised to hear a faint 'it was my hair, wasn't it?!' in the background as he stepped outside the bar towards the chill of the cold, Saturday night.

Bloody Liam.

Louis hailed a cab right away while simultaneously glancing at his wristwatch. Eleven thirty-five. Fifteen minutes left. Oh, he was downright fucked.

Why did Liam have to leave for a stupid convention and leave assignments to Louis anyways? Louis expected a raise from this (even though it wasn't Liam who's paying him) because it was a bloody Saturday and he had to go back to the stupid institution and leave a hot red-head back in the bar. How fucking lucky he was.

The drive was quick and Louis thought that the mantra of _'c'mon, c'mon, c'mon'_ helped in forcing the driver to push the gas pedal a little bit harder.

The whole institution was completely dark except for the lamps in the sidewalk. _Of fucking course_. No one worked as late as this.

Louis sprinted as soon as he entered the main door, leaving the security personnel's mouth hanging agape even though he left his identification card right at the man's table, beside the cup of hot coffee the man seemed to be drinking. Louis swerved several hallways in less than a minute even though there was barely no lights at all, passing through the dining hall, the kitchens, the recreational room and then finally arriving at the step of Liam's (and a little his) office.

The doorknob clicked as he entered his newly-duplicated key, the door creaking as it swung wide. He quickly opened the lights and searched Liam's table for the papers the damn bastard badly wanted. Beads of sweat accumulated in his forehead and he quickly swiped it off, enabling him to get a glimpse of his wristwatch once more.

And boy, did he regret ever looking at his watch.

_Eleven-fifty_.

Shit, Louis muttered to the thin air he was surrounded with and grabbed the papers and enclosed it fast in a long envelope.

Swerving the hallways was no good, Louis thought. It would take him at least a minute and then he would have to deal with whatever the security guard wanted to interrogate him with.

Which means he had to go to his shortcut.

Louis discovered it yesterday when he was exploring the grounds due to Liam's absence. He would have to go through the patient's rooms, but it was just the corridor so it was okay, and then to the lounge and then to the garden. There was a little exit near the rose bush planted in the corner of the garden which would leave Louis closer to the road and avoiding the guard completely.

Garden it was.

Louis closed the door and then started running the corridor of the patient's room. He disliked this corridor. He didn't know exactly why but it gave off a bad vibe. He heard basically nothing except a few snores and one soft cry (unmistakably a little girl) from the room far side at the left. His heart clenched at the sound (there was your bad vibe) and he wanted to go and take a look and make things better even by just a little, but of course, bloody Liam getting in his way.

Louis shooked his head a little and then continued his pace.

Louis arrived at the high-ceiling lounge and smiled. He liked this room better. It was well-ventilated and during mornings, he would see so many youngsters hanging around, playing board games and chatting and just being happy. He liked seeing the smiles in their faces.

And there was this grand piano located at the corner that Louis itched to play 'You Found Me' by the Fray (he was a massive fan of their music) since his first day.

So, it caught Louis off-guard when 'You Found Me' started playing. His heart seemed to stop for a whole second because _what the actual fuck_ , that was beyond creepy.

Louis' eyes flipped to the grand piano at once and saw someone hunched, playing it in complete darkness.

Then, his heart started racing and decided that no, he didn't want to slow it down.

There were no glitches as the 'someone' played Louis' favorite song using the grand piano. There was no dead air, in fact, the air was fully-charged with emotions that seemed to radiate from the someone. The music surrounded the whole of the lounge and Louis' wasn't complaining.

The notes used were completely the same as the ones used in the very song. The pauses and the tempo and everything.

Only it was a lot better. _Way better_ than the original.

It shot Louis right at his soul.

Louis didn't know why.

And that made Louis' hair in the neck stand, goose bumps popping out his skin.

It was so, so good that Louis forgotten everything. He forgot that he needed to go, that he needed to run through the rose bush, that he needed to bring Liam's bloody papers. Nothing was real except for the heart-stopping quality of the melody the piano was giving and the way the shoulder blades of the kid playing was going up and down.

When the song was coming to a close, he clapped his hands softly because _oh my goodness_ , the sound was just too good to be true and he just fell in love with it.

But Louis immediately regretted it when the music suddenly stopped, and a hitch of breath could be heard from the kid playing.

The kid stood up and looked Louis in the eyes.

Louis couldn't see the kid clearly from where he was standing, owing it to the darkness of the whole place. But he did see a bright, flash of green from the musician's eyes and he felt rooted to the spot.

"That was _brilliant_ ," Louis breathed out finally after a few seconds of silence. Even brilliant was an understatement. This kid should be playing at big opera houses. In Sydney, probably?

Louis wanted to get closer to the kid, _to touch him even_ , just to see if he (or she) was real because it was no lying that it was the best thing that he had ever heard in his entire life. He knew for sure that this kid was going to be a success. He could at least, have a peek at who the kid really was. Or a picture. It might last longer.

But reality ruined his life. It was getting quite of a habit now. 

As Louis tried to step forward, the kid immediately shuffled backwards, almost like Louis was his biggest fear. The bright green color of his eyes turned into smoking emerald, something that screamed of strong defenses.

"No, wait-" Louis tried making a conversation, but alas, this was not his night.

With another deep breath, the boy turned away and ran towards the patient's rooms frantically, leaving nothing for Louis to be reminded of him except for the tune and his green eyes.

Louis groaned. This situation kind of sucked.

_Green eyes._ Well, that was pretty generic, if you ask Louis.

But Louis smiled to himself. This was not that bad. Because Louis was sure, if he ever comes across those green eyes again, he would recognize it immediately.


	4. Hey You Have Green Eyes Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wouldn't it be nice if Harry and Louis are together?
> 
>  
> 
> ...But they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm worried because I only have like 2 back-up chapters left. I really have to start writing or ugh adsfkffdfljlaf.

Normal.

That was what Harry Styles aimed to be.

Harry wore the most normal clothes, which consisted of hoodies, plain shirts and jeans. He looked normal too, having insignificant green eyes, pale skin, slightly slouched figure and curly locks (that wasn't that normal, but hey). His day always consisted of the most normal and repetitive things, eating at his secluded table at the cafeteria every breakfast, lunch and dinner, showering at least once a day, and consulting his assigned psychiatrist if needed.

Harry liked to be normal. It avoided him each assured entanglement that was tied with being different. It saved him the effort to explain basically why and how things worked for him if he ever tried to be un-normal. He knew it by experience.

And since he entered the institution, he could vouch that he was the most normal person in the place.

Except he was not speaking. Harry chose not to.

Harry may not be speaking but at least he was not the girl who cried seventeen times a day or the boy who always started the cafeteria food fights. He was not the one who thrashed and cursed around even though he only came in a week earlier, and he was not the poor Irish kid who laughed at everything.

Harry was normal.

Until fate decided to step in and mess with his life once again.

Didn't he already had enough of all the complications and bullshit he went through before he admitted himself in the institution?

Harry should have known better because as soon as Danielle left, he would never have his peaceful life that he hoped for.

Harry genuinely liked Danielle. She was a good psychiatrist, amazing even. She never pushed Harry to talk and only resorted to hand signals which she personally taught Harry. She would bring Harry hot chocolate every session they had and even though it was a one way communication in Danielle's part, it made Harry happy that she never gave up on him. His other doctors did, so when Danielle told him that she was to left for abroad, he became a little sad.

Then there's Dr. Payne, or Liam. Harry couldn't make out if Liam would do him good considering he replaced lovely Danielle, but he hoped Liam would be okay. Maybe Liam would be alright, seeing he did his research and knowing Harry liked music. How did Liam even know that? Harry knew for sure he didn't tell Danielle that. Although, Liam looked genuinely nice and reminded Harry of a puppy his neighbour once took in. Also, Harry was thankful for the sketchpad. It opened up new avenues for him, though he was still reluctant in the idea of writing notes he inconveniently memorized by heart even before he came to the institution.

Just when Harry categorized Liam as one of the 'nice' people at the institution, there came Liam's assistant. No one ever said it was bad to giggle but stopping himself from doing so was the hardest thing he had ever done so far. He tried to maintain his stoic face on because he rarely showed emotions (alright, maybe that wasn't considered normal, but again, Harry chose not to), but Harry failed as he saw the assistant's shocked features. There was nothing funny really, but it just added up, for some reason, to what the assistant outrageously slew off to his boss.

Harry planned to forget it ever happened because how could remain his normal facade if he continues this mess, right?

Harry telling thanks to a psychiatrist who he met not a few minutes before and giggling - _giggling_ to an assistant who wasn't even that funny?

Nope, that was too much.

Hence, the poor cornflakes in Harry's bowl being mercilessly crushed by a spoon with brute force that droplets of milk spilled at the table. Not that Harry cared.

Well, he didn't but he did care about what others in the cafeteria might think of this morning attitude so he instantly wiped it off. Which, of course, soiled his hands and that only made his mood damper.

Harry didn't even get to sleep very well last night. He kept tossing and turning around his bed because of the voice in his head telling him _'that was brilliant'_ over and over again.

It was the first time he touched the grand piano that night, eager to play something, fuelled by Liam's encouragement. Harry patiently waited until the lights went off and everyone else in the room disappeared, taking their night-time sleep.

The feeling enthralled him, touching the keys, both black and white. He didn't mind if he felt nostalgic at that certain moment, it didn't matter if a sudden pinch in the heart made him remember everything, every person, every memory outside the four walls of the institution. Harry simply wanted to feel something that night, and so he did.

Harry played the grand piano to his heart's content.

But the moment broke when he heard a clap of hands from behind. Harry remembered the way he stiffened at the sound, although nothing of it said anything negative. He just didn't want anyone to hear him.

Now, the culprit didn't stop there, he had to compliment the way he played and that's when Harry knew he had to leave. He wouldn't be able to handle more praises, more so a conversation, he knew that much.

It was not his fault the he cringed at the compliment. It had been such a long time since someone told him he was doing fine, he was doing okay, he was okay. And he fucking missed it.

It had taken a lot of self-control for Harry to stop himself from crying and hugging the person because even if he didn't know why, he felt so alive at that moment.

But again, the dilemma of having a conversation clouded Harry's thoughts. He couldn't talk to the person, especially he didn't know him. He wouldn't manage to hold a conversation with him since there was only darkness around except for the flood of moonlight spilling from the window which barely gave light for the person to make out hand signals or sketchpad writing.

So, the regret of running away plus the brilliant thing-y kept Harry from having a good night's sleep.

Again, hence the crushed and unedible cornflakes in Harry's bowl.

A few minutes later, the cafeteria gradually became bustling with people and that was Harry's cue to leave. The less human contact and entanglement, the better.

As Harry was about to leave his poor flakes behind and attempting stand up, someone sat at the chair across him.

This day couldn't get any worse than this, Harry thought.

Nobody had ever sat down with him in this table since he first came to the institution. No one wanted to have a meal with him or even a simple chat. Excluding the fact that 'his' table was at the far end of the large canteen, it may be reasoned that everyone else found Harry weird simply because he didn't talk to anybody.

As much as he tried to be normal, he failed every single day when he found himself incapable of talking to others.

But whatever, Harry knew well that he couldn't change everybody's opinion. His past had been a very painful reminder of that.

The person that sat opposite him began to speak and Harry didn't like it that much.

"Hey. You have green eyes, right?"

Harry then decided that he didn't like the person at all.


	5. I Mean Not Talking As Talking Per Se But You Know Um Communicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall and his perfect laugh. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School's a bitch. Hence, the late update. My apologies.

Laughing could never not make your day brighter.

That was Niall Horan's life motto.

One could say Niall's out of his head every time he spontaneously bursts out laughing at the simplest jokes, but Niall didn't care. He didn't give a fuck. He was going to laugh whenever he wanted to. He was going to laugh at whatever he wanted to.

Laughing never failed to make him feel good. Basically, about anything. Niall loved the way his eyes would crinkle, his crooked teeth in braces showing and his voice cackling carefree and all. Or sometimes, when his laughter got out of control, he still loved the way his stomach aches a little at the sensation, or the way his jaw or his freckled cheeks simply giving up on him.

But, life couldn't be that perfect for anyone, right?

As opposed to the great things in life laughter had to offer Niall, it also made him where he was now.

In an institution for youths with special cases.

Because he couldn't stop laughing.

It was still crystal clear in his mind, the day his mother cried and cried as she admitted his own son to the worst place on earth. It was a blistering cold Thursday night when his mother came home and found Niall laughing. At first, his mother thought it was Niall's usual self, just being carefree and loving life, but it had been a complete hour since she saw Niall in his bedroom and since then, he hadn't stopped laughing.

Niall's mother pleaded him to stop, calling for his father to come and see him and that's when Niall suddenly burst into tears while simultaneously laughing. Still, he didn't stop, not until he fell asleep.

When his mother called the institution, he laughed.

When his mother helped him pack his things, he laughed.

When he called his friends and told him the story, although they cried, he laughed.

When he was escorted to the white, inconspicuous van by medical persons, he laughed.

When he was given his designated room and found his roommate not talking to him, he laughed.

And to say that things have quite changed since then would be a complete and utter lie.

For the three years that he had stayed at the institution, he still couldn't stop laughing.

There had been several doctors that tried to make out what's wrong with him. There had been psychiatrists too, numerous of them but they all failed. They never did get to the bottom line as to why Niall continued to laugh for no reason.

It was not insanity, most definitely not. The doctors tried a handful of mental tests to Niall and to their surprise, he passed with flying colors. Niall's brain was still intact and working properly, so why? Why did he laugh randomly and for no reason at all?

They would never know because Niall decided never to let them in. Niall wanted nobody in.

Not when his past was this much of a fuck up.

His mother didn't find him in his bedroom laughing that night because he didn't have a reason.

He was laughing for a very, very good reason.

You see, Niall's father was leaving his lovely, lovable mum. And Niall discovered it in a hard way. He had to see the bitch and his father snogging in the backyard, with his father boldly whispering to the woman's ear 'I'm going to leave them tomorrow, let's go somewhere far from here,' and then kissing the bitch again and again and again that Niall was ready to puke.

And Niall, who used every cursed he had ever known at fate which was obviously fucking up his life more than he ever needed, gave a loud barfing sound and vomited at the grass.

Which, of course, caught the attention of the star-crossed lovers making out in front of him.

Niall ran upstairs to his room, with thoughts of nothing but suicide or murder running all round his head. Suicide because it just wasn't enough for his father to come home drunk every night of his life and give him painful beatings, was it? Murder because he couldn't take it anymore, the uselessness of his father in his life and his plan to ruin, not only his but his mother's too, tomorrow.

But he thought of his mum and he realized no, she wouldn't be happy. And her mother's happiness was what Niall only wanted his life.

So, instead, he laughed and laughed.

Niall laughed non-stop, in an attempt to make things better. To make him momentarily forget the shit his father had done and will be doing tomorrow, and to stop himself from killing him or himself.

Laughter was the only hope he clung to.

When his parents called for the institution, his father was the only one his mother's got, and that made Niall quite reluctant. He couldn't leave his mother with his bastard of a dad.

But he changed his mind, because he knew his father was not that useless especially when it comes to his mother. Although not romantically, his father loved his mother. He knew his father never seen his mother as his wife but he was her a best friend. He knew that if he leaves, his father would have no choice but to take care of his mum by himself.

His mother's whispers of 'I love you, son and I'm just doing this for your sake, don't forget it, I love you so much,' were enough. His father hugging his mum tightly from the view Niall had in the van's window was just a bonus.

It was an ugly scenario, leaving home with his mother completely oblivious to every single fuck up in her life, but Niall knew it was for the best.

His mother was still in love with his dad. His dad still was living under the same roof as his mom. They would take care of each other. It was perfect.

And so, Niall wouldn't return to his home although he knew he was completely fine. It was a single emotional breakdown for him and it didn't last for more than a day but he couldn't afford to get kicked out of the institution. So he continued to laugh for no reason and he didn't plan to stop.

Not until his father forgets about the bitch and love his mother, and his mother only.

But today, he couldn't laugh his hardest. It was his roommate. The weird boy with the curls who was mute who hardly showed emotions ever.

Last night, Curly decided to give Niall not a wink of sleep, owing to the rustling of the boy's mattresses. For some reason Niall couldn't give a fuck about, the boy couldn't sleep and resorted to twisting and turning all night long. And alas, did it fuck with Niall's ears all night long.

Laughing consumes energy, everyone knew that. Not sleeping drains your energy even more.

So, from his usual four-pound heavy breakfast tray, Niall doubled his servings that held the line longer than usual. Niall grabbed additional three red apples, four cheese waffles, three tetra packs of milk and four gigantic scoops of bacon bits. Everyone else seemed to glare at him.

He didn't give a fuck. He needed energy to laugh and food was only his option. But hey, he didn't complain. More food for him, the better.

"-it was so dark last night here, Liam, and I couldn't see a thing but I did see the person's green eyes and-"

"Give it a rest, Lou. Half of the population here probably have green eyes."

"I know, I know. I was just- Liam, I don't know, the person was so damn good, and I just need to find him."

Niall laughed at the doctor sporting in a sparkling white lab gown who was talking to the guy donned in red skinny jeans. That was not true. Niall had nothing better to do inside the institution so he familiarized himself with everyone. And it's completely untrue that half of the population possesses green eyes.

Actually, there was only one person he knew that had brilliant, green eyes in the whole of the institution.

And that was his not-so-charming roommate.

Niall moved a little closer to the two persons talking to see if he could manage to eavesdrop a little more. And to familiarize himself with their stupid, little faces.

"How are you planning to do that?"

"Well, if I have to roam around the grounds, I would. Just to hear this boy play the grand piano again."

Grand piano? Play?

Oh, this was too good. Niall never knew his mute roommate could play musical instruments. So, the tiny thing could actually do something else rather than mope around their room, looking forlorn? He laughed at the thought, quite loudly to be honest that sets of eyes stared at him unashamedly. But, as for Niall, fuck not found, sorry.

Niall turned around without thanking the sweet, old lady behind the breakfast counter, successfully avoided the new kid with a quiff from flipping his tray (poor little Caroline and her spilled orange juice), and found the curls he had been looking for.

Niall should have known that his favorite roommate was at his usual spot of gloom and misery, which in other translation is at the back and darkest part of the cafeteria. He zoomed right in and sat without asking for permission.

Just like his usual self, Niall decided to be straight-forward.

"Hey. You have green eyes, right?"

His roommate replied nothing, which was kind of expected, in Niall's part, because well, he's mute right? Niall didn't even know why he's doing this. It's not like he wanted to get friendly with anyone here. He wanted to leave this institution someday and having attachments to anything or anyone could pose a problem.

But, Niall felt that he needed to strike a conversation with the boy, no matter how one-sided it could be.

Because, who knows, this might turn out to be Niall's little plan of revenge?

Or maybe, Niall's feeling a bit lonely, and seeing his roommate capable of playing a musical instrument could be a possible mutual interest between the two of them.

"You've been my roommate for how many years and it kinda feel wrong that I have never talked to you, if you know what I mean. I mean not talking as in talking per se, but you know.. um communicate... or something."

The kid with the curls raised his eyebrows quizzically, as if deciphering what Niall's true intention was. Niall laughed. He just couldn't help himself.

"So, tell me Curly, did you have a good night's sleep? 'Cause I know I didn't. M'pretty sure there has been a lot of bed sheet sounds or summat."

Curly fidgeted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable under Niall's scrutiny and obvious purpose of hearing anything that run along the lines of apology. But the kid wasn't planning to apologize. It wasn't something he does every night, anyways.

Niall sighed. This kid was thick. But he had to win. He just had to.

"I get it you don't want to talk. It's alright. Might as well go to the boisterous guy in tight red pants who seemed to be looking for you earlier."

To Niall's surprise, the kid actually turned a little flushed, the first emotion he ever saw from the boy ever since, well, the beginning of their relationship, which was about three minutes ago, by the way.

"Later, mate," Niall whispered as he stood up from the table, grabbing his tray and proceeded his merry way onto the stripes-lad and his doctor company. He gave Curly a glance and second emotion alert (ha ha) proved by the gaping of the kid's mouth and knitted eyebrows.

Niall sat down beside the doctor, in front of the red jeans lad.

"Hullo, m'Niall," he said as he took a bite from the luscious red apple, earning a questioning glance from his seatmates.

"Excuse me?" the red jeans lad answered looking at him from head to toe. Well, technically from head to his upper chest. Niall laughed. The doctor gazed at him intently as he did so.

"Oh, haha I'm sorry, I shouldn't have barged in but listen, I overheard you earlier that you're looking for someone with green eyes?"

"What about it?" the red jeans lad immediately asked and seemed suddenly curious and interested about Niall although there was a hint of offense present in the lad's tone. It wasn't really Niall's fault that he overheard the conversation. Tight red jeans lad was talking too loud, to be honest.

Before answering, Niall gave Curly a glance and saw him gripping his fork too tight and might be slightly thinking of aiming it to Niall. Niall didn't give a fuck. He laughed.

"Behind me is the green eyes you're looking for," Niall said finally, standing up and laughing until he reached a vacant table in the middle of the cafeteria and focused on devouring whatever was left on his tray.

But Niall did saw how fucking shocked stripes-lad looked at Curly (what the fuck was up, I'm gonna get nosy later, he silently thought) and how quick Curly launched out of the room, his curls blowing through the air colliding in his usually-pale-but-now-bright-pink face.

Niall laughed.


	6. You Two Would Be So Cute Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the plot thickens. I guess...

Harry Styles was a light sleeper.

A very, very light sleeper.

So, it was boggling his mind if the blond Irishman in front of him was lying or not.

"Your boyfriend came here earlier."

First, Harry most definitely didn't have one. He would have at least remembered it, y'know.

Second, if his alleged boyfriend came by, he should have heard it at least.

The blond Irishman's (or simply Niall's, as the guy preferred) rugged accent echoed throughout the four corners of his and Harry's shared bedroom. There was nothing inside the bland room save for two single beds located at opposite ends of the room (Harry's on the left-hand side, Niall on the other) and two small cabinets beside it.

And oh, a poster of 'The Fray' on the left, and one 'Justin Bieber' on the right.

Earlier, he would have thought that he was getting through the day of successfully not encountering any un-normal business but well, it was obvious this would turn out quite badly. Harry sighed deeply, allowing himself to participate in an unwanted involvement with the blond. He got up from his sleeping position, sitting at the edge of his slightly uncomfortable bed while cradling his face with both of his hands. If not for the term 'boyfriend' used, he might have gone back to sleep.

You see, Harry had been sleeping for the rest of the lunch break except of course, for his roommate because they were rooming together, obviously. He didn't want to see anyone else today.

Why, you may ask?

Because the 'breakfast' incident was simply too much.

Harry didn't know why Niall become too friendly suddenly. Then he knew.

Harry didn't know why Liam's assistant looked at him like that . Then he knew.

Niall's friendliness. His laughs and his thick Irish accent. Liam's assistant's unwavering stare of his sparkling blue eyes. His curiosity and wonder. Just thinking about it drove Harry crazy. He was most definitely not used to these things. These didn't fall under his definition of normal. And he was not planning to categorize them under it anytime sooner.

Harry's normal would be mostly involved with the word _alone._

And it was working around good considering he chose not to speak.

Harry didn't want friends at the institution. He didn't want interactions. He didn't want to be social. He didn't like talking, save for his psychiatrist, which didn't count anyways, since Harry merely forces himself to communicate because he knew that if he wouldn't, it would be a messier business. Besides, come to think of it, it wouldn't be normal. He didn't want to eat at crowded breakfast tables, or any breakfast table with people in it for that matter, because people around here could most definitely talk and talking involves a recipient who was obliged to respond.

Harry didn't like anything that may eventually leave his life because he was too much of an insecurity.

Alright, his definition of normal involved of _everything_ alone.

Harry was not a snob, but he didn't like involvements because he knew that once you get into something or someone, it would most likely turn out to be a disaster. Not because of them really but because of how Harry perceived himself.

Aside from being socially awkward and not speaking, he knew very well that he was insecure. He was constantly reminded of his cruel past that made him think that he was inferior. To everyone else. Harry became too insecure that he couldn't help but think overboard of what others think of him every single time. Harry would instantly jumps into conclusions, mostly the wrong ones.

So, basically, Harry was complete fuck up.

But let's be honest. As much as he wanted to be alone, being the fuck up that he was, inside the institution, Harry was most definitely not alone. The blond in front of him was a living proof.

The blond in front of him, that in Harry's observation, was as equally fucked up as him as well, because Harry recognized that strings of laughter anywhere. It was everywhere in the institution. So maybe, for some unknown (and probably weird) reason, this guy couldn't help but laugh at basically, anything. Yeah, he's a fuck up too, just like me, Harry thought.

"Are you two together or something?" Niall continued to talk, his laughter afterwards filling the sllence of the dreary room of theirs.

Of course, Harry did not reply. Except that he involuntarily blushed, sending Niall to laughing his heartiest laugh yet.

"You two would be so cute together, y'know? So, Harry, yeah?"

Harry froze. Well, this guy in front of him was picturing him and his mysterious boyfriend (who was Liam's assistant, Harry's one-hundred percent sure) as a couple. Wow, that was more than too much. And he knew Harry's name now too? That escalated quite quickly.

Niall, to no surprise, laughed harder.

"He called you Harry. Well, he said if you ever woke up, I should ring him up or something."

Still, Harry didn't reply. He was actually stumped. Who was this guy? And what did he want from Harry?

"Skinny jeans guy asked if you're feeling okay. He looked kinda worried about earlier, when you know, you dashed out of the cafeteria looking like you're about to puke or summat," Niall said to Harry while laughing a boisterous chuckle, echoing inside their small room.

Worried? All of a sudden, Harry's blood all seemed to go in to his usually pale cheeks, flustered at the thought someone's worrying about him. Again, not normal. It sent Harry's stomach into knots, not really knowing if it's a good thing or not.

But Harry, of course, knew better. This lad could mean nothing but _trouble_. Harry was sure of it.

With the thought, although a bit reluctant at first, Harry grabbed his sketchpad inside his bedside drawer and started flipping its pages. As per usual, his first two pages were completely blank slates (it had always been like that for him since first grade), the third page full of doodles (mostly zigzag lines), and the rest up to the half of the spine of the pad, filled with notes and music. Harry ripped the following blank page and scratched the marker against it with an uncalled firm pressure (he had to remind himself that the paper was not the one he was actually agitated at), making his handwriting even more squiggly.

"Oi, where you goin'?" Harry heard Niall shouted, as Harry continued in his not-so-merry way. Sessions with his new psychiatrist was not until a day after tomorrow but he guessed he didn't have any choice. The fairly familiar halls he needed to cross towards Liam's office flew past his vision quite fast, and arriving at the wooden door he was starting to loath, he gave a breath of relief.

Liam's assistant was not there.

Harry gently opened the door, thankfully finding the room empty. He did not have the chance to really drink in the details of Liam's office during their first meeting, and it was only then that Harry realized that the room was... typical. Or bland, or something along those lines. There was a small stack of papers in the huge desk in the middle of the room, aligned from top to bottom. The desk also contained of a small calendar with a sky-blue post-it saying _'call  John 3pm to check on Zayn'_ followed by a set of numbers and a _'Liam James Payne, PH.D.'_ sign resting in the middle of the table. A posh leather chair was positioned behind the desk, as to which Harry thought would felt better to sit on than the chair he sat on the last time. The gray metal cabinet at the right corner stood towering over the average indoor plant placed beside it. There was a huge clock pasted on the wall, with its tick droning.

The office was, well, normal.

Harry sort of liked it.

But Harry changed his opinion in an instant as his eyes gazed over the left corner of the room. There resided a smaller desk, only it couldn't be called a desk. It wouldn't qualify. It was nothing like Liam's desk, nothing at all.

There were no stack of papers to be found or even post-its but it was full of _everything_. There were almost five picture frames, each containing a different girl (and two of them looked almost like twins), an unfinished Hershey bar, an unclosed book entitled _'The Seven Highly Effective Habits of Teens'_ , a coloring book (what on earth, Harry thought), an array of coloring pens (only made sense, because coloring book), a pair of unused socks (to Harry's much surprise), a cup full of assorted beads plus nylon and a bond paper full of _'We miss you, Boo!'_ and _'Bring us gums when u visit xx'_ written in thick, black markers.

Unlike Liam's, the desk, although a mess, proved to be something personal. Like the owner genuinely wanted to put his own imprint to the desk, and actually overdoing it. Harry smiled, his heart tugging lightly.

Harry didn't just like the desk. He _loved_ it, no matter how un-normal it looked like.

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

Harry stiffened at the sound of Liam's voice. He turned around, seeing Liam holding a cup of hot chocolate, his assistant nowhere in sight. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. But it didn't help in making him less nervous. He got caught in an act he didn't want to acknowledge. Not ever.

Yes, because going to your new psychiatrist's office to give a message to his assistant you haven't properly met is not normal. Never going to be.

With shaking hands, Harry left the torn piece of the sketchpad on top of the Hershey bar at the small desk. Harry wasted no time, giving Liam a slight nod as he dashed away, leaving a confused Liam behind.

\--------

Louis whistled jubilantly as he walked towards Liam's (and now his) office.

Louis was feeling unusually happy today, since he didn't expect to find that his mysterious piano-playing guy would be someone he already knew. Well, not exactly, but okay, someone he already met.

Harry Styles.

Now, the boy's got all of his attention. At first, Louis decided that the boy was charming, despite his case of not talking even though he could. His curls, or maybe his green eyes did the thing. Or maybe the giggle he was blessed to hear (as Liam said) the other day. But now, he knew that the boy was really something. The boy was charming, yes, but now, Louis knew fully that there was more to Harry Styles than he expected. And to say he was disappointed would be a complete, fat lie.

The boy was playing 'You Found Me'. Perfectly. In the dark.

How fucking nice was that?

Louis knew it wouldn't all be candies and butterflies with Harry Styles. Liam was a living proof of that. Liam wanted to take Harry as a patient because he knew Harry was going to be a challenge. Harry had to be someone difficult for Liam to get involved.

And Liam was not wrong. Harry Styles had already avoided Louis thrice. First, when the boy giggled. Second, when the boy played the grand piano. And third, when the boy was eating breakfast.

Louis actually smelled his armpits and his breath after breakfast, but he smacked himself and realized, he hadn't been close to Harry Styles for the boy to actually smell him. He smacked himself even harder because it was only then when he was reminded that Harry wasn't his usual day-to-day person he could smile to and make friends to within a span of three minutes.

But no matter how hard it would take him, Louis swore to himself that it's going to be Harry aka Louis' close friend someday or he could curl up and die.

"Liam, I brought you tea because I think you've been drowning with too much chocolate lately and _what_ are you doing?" Louis asked Liam while entering the wooden door of their office. Louis watched as Liam paced back and forth fast between the corners of the room, his hands on his head, clearly distracted by something. But Liam's eyes lighted up as he heard Louis' voice.

"Louis!"

"Liam! You missed me that bad? Aw, shucks."

"Oh, shove off. Get the piece of paper in your desk. Read it. Now," Liam urged him, his hands circling in the gesture of 'faster, come on'. Louis raised his eyebrow at his best friend.

"Demanding much? You should've opened it, if you wanted it this badly," Louis rolled his eyes, his hand getting to the unfamiliar parchment on top of his chocolate bar. Louis slowly opened it, agonizingly slow in purpose of teasing his 'boss' and eyeing Liam's reaction.

"Louis!" Liam whined.

"Alright! Alright," Louis said, now fully opening the parchment. The handwriting was quite small but he managed to make out what was written in it.

And when he did, "Holy fuck."

Louis squealed, and the thought of 'holy shit I can actually squeal' was immediately pushed away as he drowned himself in giddiness and excitement, knowing instantly who the message was from. He read the parchment again, and he did this happy dance of his (he invented it the first time he punched a bully to protect Liam), not really caring how embarrassing it was. He even kissed the paper a few times, without caring Liam's there, watching him and actually considering him to be his next patient or whatever.

"What did it say, Lou?" Liam dashed to his side and glanced at the parchment.

_Just stay away from me._

Liam looked at Louis in confusion. Liam didn't understand. It said nothing really happy that Louis needed to execute his awkward dancing.

Louis understood Liam's questioning gaze and rolled his eyes immediately. No matter how threatening the message sounded, it was still a message and it was a huge step. And Liam was supposed to be the smart one, with the doctor title and all. Harry Styles communicating with him? Oh, this was too good to be true.

Louis was _in_.

The small parchment was not a good start, but still a start nonetheless. 


	7. So How's My Favorite Psychiatrist?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ZEEEYYUUUMMM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the latest of all the late chapters ever posted. I blame Plants vs. Zombies. I promise I'll update in a day or two. :)

"Look, Liam. You have to calm the fuck down," Louis said with too much exasperation in his voice because, well, he was pretty exasperated. Liam had not acted like this since elementary, when Big Mike, their school bully, told Liam that he was going to dump his skinny ass in the toilet after for having such sissy dreams. What kid in their right mind would have a dream to help crazy people anyways?

"I can't, Louis, I just-" Liam tried to convey his feelings coherently but clearly failing at it. He was about to meet Zayn Malik again, and to say that he was fine and dandy would be a complete lie. He was a nervous wreck. He couldn't blame himself, really. He felt like it was 7th grade all over again. Only it was a little different. It wasn't fully nervousness he was feeling. For some twisted reason, Liam was _anticipating_ to meet Zayn again.

Which probably didn't sound right. Because.

Their last encounter couldn't really be considered successful seeing Zayn effortlessly _manhandled_ him and _shoved_ him to the nearest wall and _bit_ his ear. Liam had no reason to anticipate their next meeting. No reason at all.

Or maybe this is a thing with my liking for challenges, yeah, Liam silently thought.

"If you don't stop shaking your knees and drumming your fingers right now, I swear to god, I will cut them off and feed it to you."

"You're not helping here."

"It's fucking annoying Liam, stop. Some people are trying to work here."

"Temple Run is not work, Louis."

"Shut it, you. It's work if an asshole fucking deleted the high score," Louis retorted, eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to make Liam feel at least guilty. Liam rolled his brown eyes, at this because he didn't mean to erase it, really. Louis just didn't take it seriously when Liam said he would do it if the fringe-haired lad wouldn't stop coloring his coloring books.

Liam still had to condition Louis' mind to distinguish what's work and what's not.

As minutes passed, and Liam continuing his 'stressed-out' ritual of drumming fingers at his desk (harder and harder) and stomping his feet (louder and louder) much to Louis' annoyance, Louis finally heaved a long sigh and stood up from his desk and left his phone, leaving his character running with no direction. Louis sat sturdily at Liam's guest chair.

"Liam. Liam. _Liam_. Look at me."

Liam looked at his best friend's handsome face (he admitted that fact long ago).

"What's your name?"

"Liam."

"Full name, idiot."

"Liam James Payne."

"Nuh-uh."

"Been like that since I first inhaled, Louis."

"Nope."

"Are we playing a game here? 'Cause I don't seem to follow and I don't think I would be able to because hello, Zayn? In a few minutes and-"

"Liam. You're _Dr._ Liam James Payne. You're a fucking doctor, mate."

Oh. OH. Yes, of course, Liam's a full-pledged doctor, with the almighty title and all. So...?

"Yes, well. I still can't follow Louis, come on, just tell me already, Zayn might be arriving and-"

Louis rolled his eyes while Liam pretended not to hear Louis mutter _'how could they let you fucking pass the board exam idiot'._

"Liam. You're good at this. This is you. Handling people's different personalities, yeah? These are what psychiatrists are for, mate. You've studied this for how many years and done this for so many times. This is not your first, Liam."

"But Zayn-"

"Zayn is nothing more than an awful brat made to challenge your skills. Sure, he kind of shoved you in the wall and he might be doing it again later but-"

"Louis!"

"Okay, okay. Just do your thing okay? You can do this, yeah?"

Louis' right, Liam thought. Zayn was not his first patient. And Zayn for sure wasn't the worst. Back then, there was this patient of his who wouldn't stop screaming every session they had, no matter what Liam tried to do, and it was then Liam thought he might had a slightly hearing loss.

Most of the time, Liam could predict how his sessions with patients would turn out to be. For Maggie (the screamer), he knew very well that she still wouldn't stop screaming hence his ear plugs to which he was extremely thankful for. For Harry, he knew the boy wouldn't choose to talk the instant they meet hence the sketchpad as a tool for communication.

As for Zayn, Liam didn't know. Liam couldn't foresee what was about to happen. The only thing he sure of was, it might turn out badly. Very badly indeed.

"But Louis, what if Zayn-"

"Ugh _that's it_ ," Liam heard Louis yell, his best friend standing up from his swivel chair, and proceeded to the direction of the door. Wait, Louis wasn't leaving him alone with Zayn, was he?

"Louis, you can't be serious. Zayn said he'll pound my face in, Louis-"

"Count the times you mentioned Zayn's name, Liam."

"One, two, three-um. Wait, four? Wait, what does it matter!"

"See? You fucking can't. You're obsessed, Liam. And the last time you got obsessed with something, it drove me nuts, so..."

"For the last time Louis, I'm telling you I'm not obsessed with Toy Story 3. It's just that the movie was so damn sad that I had to watch it more than once."

"More than once, less than a thousand. And, you didn't only watch it, you _talked_ about it for three straight days! I'm no doctor, but hell, I can see the symptoms again, mate. And I'm telling you, this one's no better."

"Louis, stay, please, I can't do this. Zayn might-"

Louis groaned at the name. Well, Liam didn't mean to. Liam couldn't help it. It was the name of the entity who continued to test his being, so why not use it, right?

"I'm out of here," Louis said with a full-blown smirk in his face, twisting the doorknob of the wooden door. If Liam wasn't a doctor, he was not sure but maybe that pretty face wouldn't be so pretty anymore, less smirk-y to be honest.

"Don't you dare-"

"Oh, hi. Come in, Liam's been _waiting_ for you."

Oh fuck.

"Fuck off," a husky voice replied who Liam thought was Zayn's. There couldn't be anyone else, right? Liam hesitantly gazed at the direction of the door, and oh, his vision was met by the dark quiff he told himself not to get familiar with, and the smoky eyes he told himself to forget after seeing them turn a different shade of color after the lad shoved him on the nearest wall.

Zayn, the bastard, moved his way in and bloody smirked at him.

_Fuck fuck fuck, holy shit, I'm dead, fuck I knew it, this is it-_

"Liam, what I told you okay. Later," Louis half-shouted, leaving the room and shutting the door close, leaving Zayn and Liam alone for the next hour for their session. Liam was royally screwed. Louis didn't even spare him a glance. Liam was positive that his puppy eyes would have worked this time.

"So, how's my _favorite_ psychiatrist?" Zayn said, making himself comfortable by sitting in the swivel chair in front of Liam.

Liam gulped and involuntarily tensed. _Favorite?_ What.

His patient watched him hitch a breath and Zayn's smirk was now full-blown, much to Liam's dismay, getting more and more intimidated by each second.

This wouldn't work, Liam thought. He couldn't run away from this. This was his job, for crying out loud. Liam forced to remind himself what Louis told him, that he could do this because well, he's been doing this since forever. Zayn was no different from his other patients.

To Liam's awe, Zayn lifted both his feet shamelessly and rested it on top of Liam's table.

Okay, maybe a little different, but Liam convinced himself that hopefully someday, he might get used to this.

"Good morning, Zayn," Liam was proud to say he did not stutter, thank you very much, and noted he should give himself a bar of chocolate later.

"What's so good about the morning, huh," Zayn huffed in response.

"So, how's everything, Zayn? Anything you want to tell me?"

"Aside from the usual, and by usual I mean doing whatever I want no matter how bad it sounded, well, I didn't go visit the horse at the infirmary."

"Name-calling is not tolerated inside my office, Zayn," Liam said, meeting his patient's eyes before jotting down to his notebook _'name-calling'_.

"Whatever, I do what I want to."

"No, you won't. You'll stop calling the assistant a horse."

"Hell no. Anyways, so basically, this horse-"

"The assistant, Zayn-"

"You can't force me to do what you want, Liam!" Zayn shouted, his previously crossed legs on top of Liam's desk now found rest at the carpeted floor, his eyes flaring as he moved closer to Liam's face, trying to intimidate him even further.

Liam almost cringed, but only almost. He wouldn't give Zayn the satisfaction.

"I will and I can, Zayn. We can stay here all day, with you calling him _that_ and me correcting you every single time. Your choice," Liam said, posing a challenge to his patient. Liam couldn't just let Zayn do whatever he wanted, and name-calling was extremely disrespectful.

"As I was saying, this horse-"

"The assistant-"

"FUCK. Alright, you fucking won this one, Payne. You're lucky you're pretty."

"So, the assistant then?" Liam let himself smile a little to himself. Well, point one for Payne, he thought. This couldn't be too bad.

"So, _he_ (well, at least now it wasn't horse, Liam thought) was still at the infirmary until now, as I heard from his partner, with a broken nose and all that, and he was insisting on visiting his partner."

"Did he now?"

"You see, he can't visit him unless he brings me along, and of course, I didn't want to fucking go."

"You should've gone, after all, it was your fault, Zayn."

"I don't see the reason of visiting someone if you're doing it with a purpose nowhere near as to want to make this person feel better, y'know and-"

Liam stopped writing, his heart doing a little backflip. Wait. That was _completely_ out of character. Or wait. Did he even hear it right? Was Zayn capable of being kind, for once? Did he really mean those words? Well, well.

"- so he was forced to leave me alone, ergo the food fight at the cafeteria at lunch yesterday, and went to the infirmary by himself and-"

"Zayn."

"What." The dark-haired boy answered in annoyance, clearly he didn't like to be interrupted when he was talking. As studious as Liam was, he took a note of that as well.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"You can be kind if you wanted to, so why be like this?"

"I'm not _kind_ ," Zayn spluttered the word with indignation, disgusted of how it rolled out of his mouth. The idea seemed very much preposterous to Zayn's being.

"You are."

"Do you want to hear how the rest of my days went or not, Liam?"

"Go on," Liam answered. Liam couldn't afford to force Zayn to open up more than this. Come to think of it, this had only been their second meeting. Liam's actually doing great at this, seeing he already noted of what Zayn could be hiding underneath. At least now, he knew that Zayn wasn't that bad. He couldn't be, when he said those things earlier.

"Good, okay so last night, I dreamed of you and-"

"Hmm, oka- YOU WHAT?!"

Liam didn't mean to shout or anything because he knew so well that in handling patients, one must never, ever shout. Shouting could surely do more harm than good.

Zayn was fucking dreaming of him. How fantastic.

"I said, I dreamed of you, silly. Look who's not paying attention here," Zayn replied casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Dreaming about your new psychiatrist whom you only have met for once (not to mention for a few minutes only) was very, very natural. It only made sense.

_Liam, calm the fuck down._

_No, Liam calm down. You'll not resort to swearing. Swearing is bad._

Liam cleared his throat and slowly reduced the size of his pupils while simultaneously closing his hanging mouth. He got this. He got this. He needed to calm down. This was no big deal.

"Please do go on."

"Well, it was a pretty good dream-"

_Pretty good dream?_

"-and we're already getting on the good part-"

_We're? Meaning me and Zayn?_

_Good part?_

Liam felt a boulder drop on his stomach. Haha, of course not. That's not possible at all. Nope, haha. Not at all. Never.  It was hard for him not to feel anything out of hand but to Liam’s peace of mind, he tried hard.

“-and you're already naked-"

"NAKED?!"

Liam shouted again, his voice bellowing inside the room. It was prohibited to shout at patients; Liam had been learning that since he first stepped inside uni.

But in this case, Liam didn't care, his work ethics be damned.

Naked. Zayn was dreaming of him without his clothes. A shiver ran into Liam's body, but he's not sure whether it was from disbelief or _something else_.

Well, it was not quite often for him to hear somebody confess they're dreaming about his body, to be honest.

Somehow, that thought quite had his heart beat racing.

"You know, for someone who’s job involves listening, you’re pretty much deaf,” Zayn replied, his eyebrows quirking, his brown eyes lightened up with amusement.

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to soothe his nerves. He couldn’t quite decide if he wanted to ask Zayn to talk further or simply rest the case. If he was to ask, god forbid what details his patient would give him. Liam was most definitely not prepared for this. But then, if he was to disregard the matter, wouldn’t that be against the code of his job of letting the patient talk to their hearts content?

Well, it was up to Zayn, really.

“Do you want me to continue or not?”

Okay, it was up to Liam.

“It’s up to you, Zayn.”

With the smirk Zayn was wearing, Liam had never been so sure.

He was utterly and majorly fucked. 


	8. I've A Feeling We're Going To Be Best Mates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so their worlds collide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only got a chapter left for back-up. Give me some ideas, won't you? :))

There were plenty of reasons why Harry wanted to be alone.

And one of the reasons, if not the top, was because of feelings.

Feelings that got in the way. Feelings that entailed trouble.

Like now, for instance, Harry was trying his best not to feel anything (especially not annoyance) as his seated blond roommate continued to laugh and laugh in front of him. But clearly, he was failing because of the once again pulped and mutilated cereal flakes floating revoltingly in his bowl filled with milk.

It took Harry a lot of self-control not to smack his palm in the Irish’s mouth to stop him from laughing in this early morning. And why was Niall sitting in his table anyways? Niall had his own territory during meal times and as far as Harry could remember, it was on the other edge of the cafeteria.

“So, Curls. Are you gonna eat yer cereal or what?”

_Curls?_

Harry pretended not to hear the nickname he was given out-of-the-blue and pushed the bowl towards the center of the table. It’s not like the cereal was still edible. Harry grabbed the green apple instead and required himself to munch on it, not really wanting to eat anything as of the moment.

Niall instantly took hold of Harry’s bowl and began scooping it to his mouth. Harry eyed him interestingly, both in disgust and fascination, because he was still on his way to believing that this blond in front of him was capable of eating crushed (and inedible) food after filling himself with three bowls, four apples, two toasts and some greens previously.

Niall noticed the way Harry looked at him and laughed at the boy. Well, for sure, his eating capacities were beyond human, Niall admitted that fact long ago. He wasn’t exactly sure how he acquired the skill (yes, it was a rare and cool skill) but Niall knew that eating his heart out made him feel good, less stressed and somehow, fine. Eating, aside from laughing (which could be tiresome at times), held a high position in Niall’s list of things-i-enjoy-i-don’t-care-everyone-else-thinks.

“Are you always like this? ‘Cos I would be sitting here a lot and nick your food for ya.”

Harry opted not to respond. He thought that if he’d say no (because he wanted his own space for himself, and himself only), Niall would probably argue his way out and therefore, talking some more.

But, in any way, much to Harry’s dismay, Niall would still continue to talk.

“Where did you go yesterday? Oh, wait. Do you use like, sign language, mate?”

Good, Harry thought. At least now, Niall kicked back his common decency to notice that Harry was not in speaking terms. Well, actually, Harry tried learning sign language but he found it too tiresome when he knew that he could simply just not speak at all. It wasn’t like he had someone to talk to inside the center. The only communication he had in the past while living in the center was casual nods and bobs of head, and a dash of eyebrows rise here and there. And that was only for his appointed psychiatrist.

Harry knew he had absolutely no way of shaking Niall off, so he gave him a slight shake of his curly head (after a roll of his brilliant green eyes) and resumed biting his apple.

“Oh. Really? You’re a bit of a mystery, ain’t ya?”

Niall laughed at this (for no apparent reason, and Harry was actually starting to get used to it), and chewed his overly-soft cereal, droplets of milk dripping from his mouth.

“Delicious, this cereal of yours is. Do you put sugar in it?”

Harry tried not to smile at this. Nobody knew that he was a plausible little chef or baker or whatever when he was still outside of the four walls that surrounded the center. It was nothing more than a hobby, really, cooking and baking, but a revelation was made when he applied for a small bakery down the street and passed Babs’ (the owner) test of baking a complicated version of Spanish bread. Harry liked Babs very much and she was notable for her impeccable taste in culinary and to think that Harry got the job as her assistant. It was a wow-moment.

Harry’s reminiscent phase disappeared quite quickly as a cough from someone interrupted his thoughts.

“May I sit here?” said a distinct voice Harry knew too well although he only heard it less than twice. Too well, in fact, that Harry couldn’t help but squirm at the sound.

Harry’s green eyes were met by the most sparkling blue-eyes he had ever seen, and wow, Harry involuntarily inhaled a breath and his heart skipped a traitorous beat because _breath-taking_ and okay, that was not part of the plan. Wait, what was the plan again.

_Just stay away from me_

Yes, of course, that was Harry’s plan. Harry’s plan of not involving himself with the assistant, and he couldn’t go through the plan if this blue-eyes kept on popping out of nowhere.

“Louis! You can sit here, right, Harry?”

Harry stood frozen at the spot, because really, this Niall was way out of his head if he’s thinking of asking his permission. It was either the blond was completely innocent with the way he asked him or completely tormenting Harry on purpose. Harry had a bad feeling it was the latter.

\----

For the record, Louis did not know exactly why he decided to leave Liam on his own at the table designated for employees and go straight to where Harry was supposed to be sitting. Well, maybe because he was curious, or eager to more about the boy and his personality. Although, he was warned not to get near him again by the boy himself. Logic wasn’t really one of Louis’ strong points.

Gripping his tray of breakfast, Louis rushed to the secluded corner where curls were abundant and a slight dash of blond, ignoring pointed stares from other patients inside the cafeteria. It was not like it was prohibited to eat with patients, and it was up to the customer where to sit and eat, really.

Louis was slightly thankful his new friend Niall sitting with Harry. Louis was assuming it would be awkward to sit with Harry without the quirky blond Irishman. He wouldn’t exactly call Niall his friend but it was getting close to that label, proven by how the blond interacts with him, especially during the first time, the loudness of the boy’s laugh and the random topics he would quickly introduce. The boy simply didn’t know boundaries. Louis did not know if he should be thankful or dreadful for that.

Plucking the courage (that refuses to fucking cooperate but he knew was somewhere inside himself), Louis spoke.

“May I sit here?”

It wasn’t his fault that he noticed the obvious cringe Harry was making. The boy made clear of himself with what he answered Louis previously. _Just stay away from me._

But.

To hell with that. As if Louis ‘the fucking Tommo’ Tomlinson would give up because of that measly rejection. It’s been long decided in Louis’ brilliant mind that he was determined to be friends with Harry. And who knows, maybe the ‘You Found Me’ sheet might be a bonus?

“Louis! You can sit here, right, Harry?”

Again, cringe. Or freeze? Whatever. Louis decided whatever Harry just did, it wouldn’t matter. Whatever ice it was that was enveloping the kid, how thick it is, may it be a fucking ice called the North Pole, Louis was single-minded to get to know Harry. And this was the perfect opportunity.

But Louis’ temper was not really his strong suit. A minute in front of someone’s table, with a slightly heavy tray was a lifetime for him.

Louis was nearly at his edge, almost wanting to slam his tray down and get the hell with it, force Harry to talk to and basically, ruin everything that he worked for (which was not quite a lot, if he would be honest with himself, but he really was trying) but he stopped and inhaled deeply, putting on a small smile instead.

And to Louis’ luck, the little smile he had on in his face turned into a full-blown grin when he distinctly heard the creaking of the floor against the moving of something. Something like the legs of a certain chair.

Louis’ heart skipped a beat when he saw the chair in front of the green-eyed lad move just a tiny fraction. It didn’t matter to Louis how small the push Harry did. All that matters was Harry was _okay_ with him sitting in front of him.

“So, how are you, Harry? Niall?,” Louis said with a voice he was hoping that wasn’t full of enthusiasm. Louis’ voice was always a dead giveaway, his mum and Liam was constantly reassuring him that.

“Pretty hungry,” Niall replied, his mouth dripping with something. Was it milk?

Louis noticed Harry shot Niall a disbelieving look, which was quite adorable, the lad’s green, green eyes, flickering and widening, and his lips slightly opening.

“Well, Niall, you can have this and this,” Louis said, offering his bowl of cereals (he wasn’t much of a cereal guy anyway), and his granola bar.

“Aww, man. I’ve a feeling we’re going to be best mates. Hey Harry, tell me whatcha put on your bowl.”

Harry didn’t answer Niall’s question with anything but a stoic face and a soft munch of his luscious green apple. So, he’s into cooking, huh?

“So, what are you doing here, Louis? Are you insane, too?” Niall asked Louis nonchalantly, as if being insane was something very much normal.

“Oh, yes. Yes, I am. I should’ve thought twice when I accepted my best mate’s offer of a job here,” Louis replied, earning a loud laugh from Niall, and well, still nothing from the apple-of-his-eye.

“Y’know, if I were like ya, I would’ve worked in a bar. With all the booze and girls.”

“Been there, done that, mate. Worked for over a year in a club downtown. Best I’ve ever had. I must be crazy for trading that heaven for this hell,” Louis said without noticing the sudden drop of the green-eyes’ mood.

“I guess it can’t be helped. Insanity is quite contagious ‘round here.”

“Oh, no. No, you’re not the ones to blame. My best friend. Otherwise known as my boss. He’s been bitching and for the long time I’ve known him, when he does, it’s rather difficult to stop,” Louis said apologetically. Crap, that was the wrong thing to say earlier, he silently thought.

“The doctor who looked like a puppy?”

Louis laughed at Niall’s exact depiction of Liam. He knew it. He wasn’t the only one who thought Liam looked exactly like a puppy. With brown, chocolatey eyes and a nose like those of Liam’s? It was not precisely doubtful, if you ask Louis.

But Louis must have laughed too hard, seeing the squirm that ran through Harry’s lithe body. Louis saw how Harry’s face imitated his own frown, and then awkwardly pulled the sleeves of his purple hoodie, almost covering up the boy’s pale hands entirely.

Louis faked a cough.

“Uh, yeah. He’s actually Harry’s psychiatrist. Liam’s been worrying non-stop ever since he handled Zayn Malik.”

“Malik? He’s funny, that one. Always makes me laugh,” Niall said, with unsurprisingly, a laugh.

“Aren’t you always, Niall?” Louis quipped, faster than he could stop his big, fat mouth.

“Touché. I like you, Louis. You’re funny, too. Well, that Malik boy, he’s always funny except for the times he would flip trays full of food. Wasting precious food, I tell ya. He should dump it into my mouth instead. I’d gladly open up for him.”

Louis wasn’t sure how it happened, or where the guy even came from. Zayn Malik seemed to be a fucking magical mushroom from a far off land because one second he was nowhere in sight and then, there he was sitting beside Louis, in front of Niall, casually devouring his granola bar with fiery eyes matching his enthusiasm. Or more like fervour, Louis thought.

“What, I heard my fucking name, alright? I don’t want fucking people gossiping about me. Now, talk.”

_______________________

It was wearing on Harry’s last nerve. Or maybe it was his squeamish gut clenching at the nervousness of it all.

Harry was currently sitting with three – _three_ people he didn’t know much of, at his secluded table in the cafeteria, including the person behind the tugging, nagging edge he couldn’t deny that had seen fit to arrest his brain recently. It wasn’t anything big, though. Okay, so his hands shook a bit when he heard Louis’ voice over. So his body had developed a mind of its own, and pushed the chair in front of him for Louis, without Harry being aware of it. So what? It wasn’t a big deal. Nothing harry couldn’t handle.

But it was. It was a huge fucking deal.

He couldn’t handle Louis, more so this Niall and now this Zayn. He was not used to this. He was never going to be used to this. It’s been years since his last struggle in communicating with a person and he knew his skills were never better. It was far from improving, more like deteriorating, really.

Harry bit the remaining of his green apple, chewing it with brute force (for some unknown reason) and with speed of a lightning (again, for some unknown reason, which probably points down to the preppy fringed lad in front of him).

“…so next time you flip trays, don’t forget about me. We’ll be the tray-flipping-food-eating duo,” Harry heard Niall said with a laugh (predictably). The times this guy talks about food, he didn’t know. He lost count the first five minutes he sat beside him.

“Harry, you’ve got apple bits in your face. Let me just…” Louis said drifting off, as his palm daringly cupped Harry’s pale cheek and brushed it gently, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Harry.

_This had to be a joke._

Green eyes met those enchanting blue ones, and then Harry felt a rush of a foreign feeling ran all over his body. All that Harry could hear was a very fierce heart beat and it would be pointless to deny it’s not from him.

To say that it had been a while since someone acted a physical contact with him was a complete understatement. It had been a fucking eternity (or something much longer than eternity) because of how _messed_ up his reactions was.

Harry didn’t need to pace up his heart beat. He didn’t need to intake a breath. He didn’t need to gaze at Louis’ eyes _that_ way. And most certainly, he needed not to feel whatever he was feeling.

“I told you, you two look cute together.”

Harry’s attention snapped at the blond Irish and gave him a ‘don’t-fucking-start-with-me-right-now’ look (or a vain attempt at it, because Harry and emotion expressing don’t jive that well, remember). And just then, Louis gave a soft chuckle which turned into a dizzying smile.

“Would we?”

Even though what Niall said was of no big deal, hearing that from Louis makes it seem to Harry it was somehow, in some strange way, _possible_.

And he hated himself for it.


	9. I'm Almost There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn, oh sweet, merciful Zayn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly hope this makes sense. Louis and Harry in action next chap, I promise! :)

“Seems like someone’s getting a bit vain over there,” Louis yelled while playing Temple Run in his phone. “You know, if you want to crack the mirror, smash it on the floor, instead of staring at your puppy face for god-knows-how-long.”

Liam threw a death glare in his assistant’s direction. He had not been staring at his reflection that long. And he was not getting vain, too. What was combing once a day, right? And besides, Louis’ the one who’s vain in the first place, so maybe he was merely rubbing off on him.

“Quiet you.”

“Surely you have a better comeback than that, Liam. And must I remind you that Zayn Malik’s not your only patient here. You have Harry too.”

“What does Zayn have to do about this?”

“Because I’m your secretary.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Secretaries are supposed to know the schedules of their bosses, Liam. And don’t deny that your next patient is none other than your bad boy,” quipped Louis.

Liam blushed at the thought. He was most definitely not treating Zayn special. Actually, it was Harry who was receiving a good lot of his attention because of the sudden improvement of the boy’s moods. The time allotted for Harry’s session doubled since the last time.

And as for Zayn, well, Liam couldn’t help but somehow shorten the span of time he had to spend with the patient. As each session drew to a close, the more awkward it had been for them. Or at least for Liam.

Zayn was the most interesting patient he ever handled. Every session they had, it would not fail that Zayn would bring an attention-grabbing story for Liam. And by stories, it meant something about Liam.

Yes, stories about himself. Because apparently, Zayn couldn’t stop dreaming about him.

There had been too many of them for Liam to keep count. Once, both of them were riding a rollercoaster in a carnival and the rollercoaster broke down, leaving them high and stuck. Then sex. Another one was when Zayn visited Liam in his flat, with a chocolate cake in his left hand. Then sex. And the latest one was when Zayn drove Liam to a romantic bridge in his dashing red Ducati. Then sex.

Always ending up on sex.

As for the reason why Zayn was constantly dreaming of pervert things with him, Liam had absolutely no idea.

It was that, or Zayn was lying.

Liam hoped it was the latter. But if Zayn was merely lying, why would he? What would he achieve? Did he think Liam would fall for this prank? As much as how Liam found the situation awkward and no matter how he felt violated every single time, it was his job and he was determined not to back down.

But to say that he was getting used to this would be a downright lie.

He still had to remind his heart to be still whenever Zayn would enter the room. He still had to force himself to calm down whenever Zayn would break down the details of his dreams. He still had to ease a small smile in place of whatever intense feeling he had inside.

And all to blame was that unusual boy with a rather tall quiff for his own good.

“For a doctor who specializes with knowing inner or hidden feelings and all that shit, you’re pretty transparent, Liam,” Louis said without lifting his head from his phone. “And it’s kinda funny. You and this Zayn.”

“You mean, like you and Harry,” Liam bantered. He wasn’t going to lose this one with Louis.

That remark got Louis distracted from surpassing his unbeatable high score in Temple Run. Liam noticed how quick Louis’ head snapped at the mention of his patient. It was getting evident, Louis’ interest in this patient of his. As childhood friends, Liam knew very well how Louis would drop anything for something that caught his attention. But as quickly as Louis may found that something interesting, so was Louis’ tendency to let go.

Liam was brutally aware of their breakfast rituals, alongside with Niall Horan and Zayn.  Louis would waste no time in lining up for bacons and eggs since it was the longest (it would occupy up to the outer corner of the canteen itself), and would immediately go for Harry’s table. He was also well aware of Louis’ sudden dispassionate feeling towards his beloved Temple Run game every time Harry would come in their room for their weekly session. Not to mention those googly eyes Louis would wear even though he could only see the back of Harry’s curls from where his table was located.

It was not that Liam was unapproved of Louis’ interest to the boy. It was quite helpful really, that somehow the boy was opening himself, not only to Louis but to Niall Horan and maybe to Zayn as well. Not that much of an opening but the mere acceptance of Louis’ presence was an improvement good enough for Liam to consider.

But, the thing was, Liam was getting a bit worried.

It was doubtful that Louis would suddenly leave Harry hanging mid-air (although it was quite possible), but he was unsure if Louis would still stay the way he was pursuing Harry now if he were to know of Harry’s past. Harry was still not disclosing any facts but with the current state of the boy (which was choosing not to speak when he could clearly do so), Liam could already hint that Harry’s past was, to a certain extent, terrible.

Being a practised therapist, Liam could quickly understand what Harry would disclose, when such situation arose in the future. But as for Louis, he was uncertain.

“What do you mean, me and Harry? We’re not – not like you and Zayn Malik! You’re goody-two shoes and he’s a bad boy. He’s insane, you’re, well, _quite_ sane. Like opposites, y’know? Me and Harry aren’t like that at all!”

“So what are you and Harry, then?”

“I don’t know yet. We’re not that close as you think we are. He’s still not talking and – _wait a minute_. Did you just use your secret therapist skill of turning the subject around?” Louis replied with his blue eyes scrutinizing Liam. “I told you not to use it on me, you twat!”

“Hey, you’re the one who chose to answer, not me. I just asked the question,” Liam said with a laugh. He stood up, walked through the office and stopped at the door. He opened it and looked at his best friend with expecting eyebrows.

“What? So you’re throwing me away? You’re not gonna let me hear how you fail at hitting on Zayn Malik?”

Liam rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m being a good friend because it’s siesta time and most of the patients are asleep and more likely for Harry to be at the lounge.”

Louis did not need to be told the second time around. He was dashing out of the room in no time at all, leaving a slightly worried Liam behind.

_____________________

Zayn was fucking pissed.

He was irritated, fuming and _very much_ livid. This was unlike any other. He never got this angry. Not when he was always in control.

And fuck. Now, he was so not in control. And it was too apparent for his liking.

Zayn was already at the edge. He was nearly there. He could almost taste the sweet, sweet feeling of getting discharged from this fucking hellhole when this fucking Liam Payne happened. He was getting better at his technique, his genius of a plan of scaring his therapists away, one by one. But then, this fucking goody-two-shoes of a doctor came and ruined it all for him.

The plan for Liam, since Zayn could awfully read his blunt expressions, was to embarrass him to death and for the therapist to lose  his cool and drop Zayn mid-air, succumbing to the shame and surrendering his patient to another therapist, or maybe, giving up on him, entirely.

And what was the most awkward topic for those who were stuck in the getting-to-know phase? Sex, of course.

Zayn relished the flustered expression Liam would have for him every time he would narrate his raunchy dreams. Zayn would break down every single little detail, from how Liam’s skin glistened with sweat and the beautiful curve of Liam’s back to the loud moan his therapist would boldly do during sex in public areas.

Zayn would put in his biggest smirk as soon as he would notice the shake of Liam’s fountain pen behind his clipboard because he knew that Liam would be asking if he dreamed about him again. Liam always insisted that talking about dreams could also serve as a good outlet for him and all that medical shit he always talked about. And then Liam would do his small gulp and look everywhere save for Zayn’s eyes and bite his lower lip as he tried listening to his patient.

Tormenting Liam by inventing fake dreams that never happened always put Zayn in high spirits.

That was until now.

Yesterday, Zayn woke up in the middle of the night, sweating profusely with a very hard (pun intended) problem in his pants. He couldn’t do anything but to grumble an ear-splitting ‘ _fuck’_ , loud enough for John (his warden) to wake in confusion, and say ‘what now, Malik’.

_Z-zayn, harder, please. Right there, yes, nghh._ Holy fuck. There was no way Liam, his innocent and naïve therapist, would be able to extricate a sound like that. Not with matching half-closed eyelids and flustered face that aroused  Zayn even more. Not in this lifetime. But that fucking dream. What the fuck was that about.

And to make matters even worse, Zayn couldn’t help but think about his doctor’s face when he helped himself in the bathroom.

Just fuck.

How the hell did the fucking doctor managed to enter his dream? Wasn’t it enough that he gets to irk Zayn as he much during their sessions? It was all Liam’s fault. It was because of Liam’s chocolate brown eyes, his boss shoulders and those brown tufts of hair. His calm and deep voice and his thick accent. He was way too caring for a normal doctor-patient relationship, to be honest.

Fucking hell. He fucking seduced me, Zayn thought. It was all his fault. It had nothing to do with Zayn. He didn’t like the fucking doctor for fuck’s sake. Alright, maybe a little, when Liam would wear that flustered (cute?) face of his. Or maybe when Liam would put on a smile and remain kind no matter how Zayn tried to screw with him. Not screw per se, but you know, fool around.

Now, he was completely out of control.

First, he didn’t get to control his dreams (it was supposed to stay fucking fake, for fuck’s sake). Second, he didn’t get to control how much he thought of Liam the whole night. Third, he didn’t get to control his feelings and venting out suddenly seemed a very difficult task to do.

It was always like that. When things get out of control, Zayn had always failed to resort to his specialty of thrashing around and expressing his anger. He didn’t actually know why but back then, it didn’t matter that much because, he was _always_ in control. His admission to the institution was completely out of his bounds but he didn’t get the chance to express his anger to his parents outside. Instead, he aimed to control things on the inside, and well, he was nearly successful until Liam came in the picture.

It was quite complicated but most of people are.

So, as much as Zayn was seeing red and especially angry, he couldn’t express it. Which pretty seemed to be a lousy day for his known fierce and brutish behavior.

There had been no flipping of trays, no messing in the hallways with mud from the garden, and no rough fights with anyone (okay, with one male staff because he was clearly asking for it).

Basically, he was troubled. He was internally angry and troubled but his face showed nothing of the angry side but more of the distressed part of him. That alone made him even angrier. Fuck, emotions were the worst. It was so fucking complicated. Fucking Liam Payne.

Zayn ran his hand through his quiff dejectedly and knocked softly on the door. He just couldn’t skip the day off when his psychiatrist was waiting for him, could he? “Come in,” said a muffled voice. A voice which he was beginning to detest. Which he had no idea if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

With a hand curled in the doorknob of his room of doom, Zayn looked up and saw Liam, sweet naïve Liam with fixed and moussed hair and his stupid white lab coat, who appeared to be caught off guard by Zayn’s visit. It was a Thursday, right?

“Are you expecting someone else or…” Zayn trailed off, giving Liam a questioning look.

“No, I just thought – well, you don’t actually have a habit of knocking,” Liam reasoned.

“Give that a second dent to your flawless reputation, doctor. I’m very much offended,” Zayn replied softly.

“Second? When and what was the first?”

First, you seduce me and make me have a wet dream about you (for real), and now you’re mocking my personality, Zayn thought. And you act like you have no idea. What a bastard. “Who knows?”

“Was it the time I threatened you with a phone call to your warden? You know, I’m not sorry for that one, Zayn. You seemed to be a very tough nut to crack back then, so you’re not completely blameless.”

“So you’re saying that you’ve cracked me now, huh? That you know the true me?”

“With this surprisingly civil conversation we’re having and your politeness plus having heard not a curse from you since you came in, I can say that, yeah. I’m almost there,” Liam said with a blinding smile, bringing about a sweet painful throb inside Zayn’s chest.

Was this guy fucking serious? What the fuck was that fucking flash of smile? Zayn never asked for that one. He really is seducing me, Zayn thought. Zayn must think of another plan, and fast. This one proved to be a failure, seeming that he dug his own grave in dong the process and he didn’t exactly have a Plan B for Liam and–

“You look deep in thought, Zayn. Why don’t we sit down so you can talk about it?” Liam gestured for the swivel chair on front of his desk.

“Oh, um thanks,” Zayn replied, sitting in the chair quite gloomily.

“Again, I’m surprised.”

“Again, I’m offended.”

Those brown eyes met Zayn’s and it was not a second later that the two of them burst out laughing. But Zayn immediately halted as soon as he felt a pleasant twinge in his chest, clutching his Guns and Roses shirt tightly with his left hand, making a face that Liam could not decipher. But Zayn knew, Zayn knew very well what it was, and it was all clear to him.

It had been a while. 


	10. Come On, Make My Entire Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A curly monster on the move. Ha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guise this is like the longest chap I've ever written, like 3.5k and it's all Larry and just. Here you go, and please, please tell me what you think.

Louis liked a lot of things.

Back then, when he was still the stuck-up five-year-old everyone knew him as, Louis liked a lot of things. He liked his mum’s baked cookies, his little sister’s big ball of gum their aunt would give her whenever she visited, his neighbour’s rickety rocking chair (his mum never wanted one and he hated her for it) and, most of all, the super-duper wicked , amazing, mind-blowing, wonderful _, wonderful_ black Power Ranger action figure displayed at the local toy store.

Louis would have to pretend to tie his shoelaces whenever he would accompany his mum to the grocery just to marvel at the awesomeness of the action figure for a few more moments. His hand would be itching so bad to get a hold of the marvellous toy when he would see the free life-size sword (matched with the Power Ranger), if the customers were to buy it on that specific date. Which was in a month’s time, then.

After an hour-long explanation to his mum as to why he needed that Power Ranger (not to mention his suspiciously endearing eyes when he talked to her), Louis’ mum gave up to what he wanted. And Louis jumped up and down, up and down with a crazy, big smile until he was gasping for breath and covered in sweat. He grabbed his mum’s arm and lead her down to the main door of their humble abode saying ‘C’mon, let’s go buy it before Liam does’ but Louis stopped in the middle of his giddiness when he realized that if he bought it now, he wouldn’t have the free sword.

Hence, Louis screamed and ran upstairs to his room and slammed the door shut, and almost, _almost_ using the bad word his mum told him never to use.

He couldn’t wait for four long, agonizing weeks. Most definitely not. But the _sword_.

As he told his mum about his dilemma, Louis was taught of his new word called ‘patience’. Louis remembered his mum saying, “You’ve got to be patient, Boo. If you have patience, which means waiting and waiting even though you don’t like it, you’ll surely get your reward. M’kay?”

So, after a month-long of morning pouts and a frowning face, hating the word ‘patience’ as each day came to a close (because it was annoying to wait) , Louis and his mum finally, _finally_ bought his sweet, _sweet_ black Power Ranger together with his dashing new sword.

Louis excitedly showed his action figure to everyone in the neighbourhood, everyone in school, and everyone in piano lessons and also to Liam, of course! Louis and Liam played with it every afternoon, staging each episode of Power Rangers they had in mind.

Until, it broke. Louis cried when his mum said it cannot be fixed again and cried more when he remembered all those difficult days he had to _wait_ and keep _patient_ just for them to buy his perfect toy. That was when Louis figured out that he absolutely hated waiting. He would never go back doing that again. And as far as he could tell, patience was something to dislike more than his least favourite aunt’s disgusting, wet kisses.

But, now, as he rushed out of his and Liam’s office, in the direction of the lounge, Louis had to remind himself that he _needed_ to be patient. He must control himself for doing something that might turn out for the worse. He must not rush things. Rushing was never an option when it came to Harry Styles.

The week flew by faster than Louis had imagined. He didn’t exactly expect that he would fall into a pleasant routine every morning. A routine wherein Harry would push the dingy chair of the cafeteria in front of him for Louis to sit on. And then Niall would laugh about something, and Zayn would throw some brilliant comebacks every now and then. He would join Niall and Zayn’s discussion sometimes but it would be a little short because Louis would always be distracted by the curly boy in front of him who actually does nothing but play with his food, not daring to look up.

Louis didn’t get the improvement that he wanted but he was clearly getting something from the routine because he was genuinely happy with the arrangement. He was alright with the thought of Harry not talking to him, even with his sketchpad in his hand. Harry’s tolerance of his presence every morning was enough for Louis. Knowing that Harry changed his mind in keeping him away, Louis couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

Just as Liam predicted, Harry was hunched in the cosy seat in front of the grand piano, his sketchpad opened and his delicate hands splayed all over the black and white keys, touching it only lightly so as it wouldn’t make a sound.

Louis waited. He didn’t felt good about the whole situation of waiting something to happen (because of his patience issues) but he knew he had to. It turned out that it was a good thing, actually, because after a few silent moments, Harry began to press the keys, starting off a soothing tune. Which Louis recognized immediately.

 _Iris_.

Louis only heard of its original version and never its acoustic-piano one. Even with no point of comparison, Louis was assured that the melody, timing and sound and _everything_ of it was simply perfect because it sent shivers down his spine (once again, no surprise there, really) and he couldn’t help but to just stand there motionless, in complete awe and admiration.

Fuck, Harry’s completely and utterly great at this, Louis thought.

It’s as if playing the piano was Harry’s own reflection of a sound.

_______

_And I’d give up forever to touch you_

_‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow_

_You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be_

_And I don’t want to go home right now_

Harry had no idea what he was doing. It was broad daylight and he was sitting in front of the grand piano, playing ‘Iris’ for some unknown reason. He might even wake up patients who were trying to get some rest after a meaningless morning. But he couldn’t stop himself from playing the keys.

As soon as he saw the lounge empty, Harry grabbed the opportunity of testing his newest music sheet. He was robbed of the chance to play it during late nights because he recently plunged into a habit of sleeping early. It was most definitely not because he wanted to wake up the next morning, looking fresh and anew since Louis Tomlinson would sit in the chair in front of his usual spot in the cafeteria. Most certainly not.

Louis.

Louis, Louis, Louis.

Harry blamed Louis for everything. His serene life inside the institution came spiralling down the drain as soon as the blue-eyed lad (god, how Harry hated those eyes) stepped in. Harry was forced to eat his breakfast, not with one, not with two but three, _three_ other people in his secluded table who all annoy him to some extent. Not how much Niall laughs every minute, but on how Harry was slightly getting used to it. Not how Zayn curses after every word, but on how Harry was not completely opposed with it. Not how Louis stares at him extensively, but on how Harry seemed to _like_ the attention the lad was giving him.

It was all Louis’ fault.

Even his newest music sheet was Louis’ fault. Writing them was the only way Harry could get himself away from thinking about Louis. It was as if Louis began to plague his mind, tormenting him every time. And Louis showing concern to him during breakfasts, throwing “How has your sleep been, Harry?” or “Do you want more milk?” was not helping, either. Harry would inescapably embarrass himself by not saying anything, but if only Louis would look a little closer, Harry would give an almost negligible nod of the head (if the question answers a yes or a no). Because Harry, no matter how much he tried not to, felt obliged to answer for the reason that Louis was just too fucking sincere and he seemed genuinely interested with Harry’s well-being.

Louis was the painful reminder of how much Harry craves for affections and how much he misses them.

This was not normal.  He couldn’t get back to what he left behind in his outside life. He couldn’t be the selfish Harry he once used to be.  It all started with affection (plus vocalizing them) and everything troublesome it entailed with. So, he mustn’t. This wasn’t Harry wanted to live his days inside the institution.

But it’s no use. 

Louis had already got in and made a connection.

Harry felt the walls he purposely fashioned around his heart slowly crumble down.

The song came to a close and Harry was very much relieved that it was over. At last, he was free to do something else less dangerous, not to mention more normal, than what he was doing now.

But it was too soon to say such things.  Wasn’t it becoming like that all the time, now?

“Harry, that was impressive! You’re simply amazing and…”

Louis. It was always him.

Harry flicked his gaze towards Louis’ and he seemed to be babbling something but Harry wasn’t even listening to his words. It was Louis’ breath-taking smile of assurance that was driving him insane. Harry’s heart beat suddenly had grown to tender proportions.

He couldn’t take it anymore. It was suffocating him. He couldn’t – He had absolutely no idea what Louis was doing to him but he just couldn’t stay and open himself to him and be _friends with him_ and just –

Harry stood and rushed away towards the direction of the rooms, leaving Louis all by himself. He leaned at the wallpapered wall of the hallway, clutching his hoodie over his chest.

He didn’t want to be rude but he couldn’t exactly give a reply to what Louis was saying either. But he surely could have listened, right? To show some respect, at least. The boy had done nothing but to be nice at him.

But that was the thing. Louis was always _nice_ and it was because of it that Harry was more than annoyed. He liked nice people, he really, really do, but reacting to those god-sent angels was not Harry’s strong suit. He was uncontrollably rude and or awkward to them. And hey, sitting beside them already makes him rude, by default, to be honest.

When Harry’s breathing stabilized and regret came charging in, before he could even figure out _why_ he felt the need that he had to in the first place, he sauntered back to the lounge, taking as much time as he needed to because, fuck, he was really going back for _him_.

_____

Louis smiled bitterly to himself.

He couldn’t be thinking of giving up now, right?

But the way Harry scrambled away from him earlier, Louis began to think twice. Maybe, he was forcing himself to the lad too much. Maybe, he was being too pushy. Maybe, he was becoming too annoying. Maybe, he was getting out of bounds.

Well, he didn’t do much, as far as he remembered. He wasn’t being cocky either. Humility was the truth and with the beauty Harry was playing, his comments were actually understatements.

Louis didn’t give a care before what the boy might think of him but now, he was really contemplating of stopping whatever he was doing. He managed to scare the boy away. How fucking perfect.

But he just wanted to be friends. He wanted to know more about Harry. He wanted to discover what were his habits, his likes and dislikes, if he liked playing football or did he know other musical instruments aside from piano. He wanted more.

Just when he was already making an improvement, as in this case, Harry offering him a seat during breakfast, Louis was stumped with the truth. Maybe, he was being a little over-confident of things. He must refrain himself from expecting that it only goes up from where they were now.

Louis made himself comfortable and sat in front of the grand piano. Heaving a sigh of weariness, his enthusiasm shot up to the highest when he saw Harry’s sketchpad open in front of him. Of course. Harry wouldn’t have the time to pick up his things when Louis scared him away.

Fuck, he shouldn’t be depressed over something like this. His nickname was Tomlinsunshine (by Liam, if you couldn’t already guess), for crying out loud. He was the most positive thinker in the planet.

Louis scrunched his fringe up and fixed his posture and exhaled a strong but quiet “Ha!”. He tried to make something out of the makeshift staff in Harry’s sketchpad and the tiny notes scattered all over the place. He needed to cheer himself up and learning a new song couldn’t be that bad, right? And it wasn’t technically sneaking on someone else’s notes because it was Harry’s fault that he left his sheets out in the open, right?

Louis began playing the lead melody of the song and some of its intro because _gosh,_ the accompaniment sure had a difficult pattern to follow. His left hand couldn’t possible do all those notes all at once. He was in awe as to how Harry could manage to do all of it perfectly.

Louis familiarized himself with the beat and tempo of Iris and it was merely a few minutes later that he heard someone trudge behind him and it couldn’t be anyone else aside from Liam. And he must had come to revel on how he and Zayn were now cool with each other (they might even be snogging now, Louis added in thought), while he, the Tomlinsunshine, was sitting here, playing the fucking piano alone and wretchedly.

Without looking back, because he really needed to memorize this magnificent piece of work, Louis said, “Look, Liam, if you came here to say ‘I told you so’, save your breath. I’m not going to give up on Harry. You’re such a bad liar, did I ever tell you that? I can see it in your face – _fuck I just can’t get this note right_ – that this thing I’m doing screams of nothing but ‘this is a bad shit idea’ but in all honesty, I beg to differ. I want to be his friend so badly and I don’t really have bad intentions you know, and I’m not obsessed, Liam and –“

 Wait.

Since when did Liam knew piano and why was he trying to sit beside Louis? And when did he have a slightly leaner figure and when did he have his hair curled and _holy shit_ –

Harry Styles, the _Harry_ Louis was dying to interact with and no fucking way, sat beside him and started playing the accompaniment Louis found difficult to play. Louis was completely stumped with the sudden realization that – holy shit – he said all those things aloud when Harry was standing right fucking there and he was utterly stupid and waitdid Harry actually _wanted_ to play the piano with him?

“Harry…” Louis attempted to say and he hoped that Harry got the message that he had absolutely no clue what’s happening and he did not know what to do. Harry lifted his eyes from the keys and ceased playing it for a while and met Louis’ burning gaze with a soft blush covering his usually pale cheeks. Harry shyly moved his head in the gesture of the grand piano and – _oh_. He wanted to play it. With him.

And so, with no question, Louis happily obliged.

Louis heaved a soft cough and postured himself properly and starting pressing the ebony and ivory keys of the grand piano and after a few moments, Harry joined and it was just too _beautiful_. The music they created filled the whole of the lounge and Louis couldn’t help but glance to Harry – sweet, gentle Harry – every five seconds and _oh god_ this was really happening.

_And all I can taste is this moment_

_And all I can breathe is your life_

_'Cause sooner or later, it’s over_

_I just don’t want to miss you tonight_

“Shit, I just can’t get this one,” Louis whispered out of the blue. Harry stopped playing as well, and then he looked at Louis with his brilliant green eyes, and demonstrated how he would play it to Louis. Louis tried to copy Harry’s fickle fingers (he was playing it with unbelievable easeness and how does he do it, Louis thought) but he failed to do so, making him inhale a breath sharply.

And then, it was the impossible happening. Harry was guiding his ugly and calloused fingers and he felt Harry’s soft ones touching his, positioning his own to the right and better arrangement for playing that certain hard note. It was a brief, short-lived moment, yes, but to Louis, it was triumph. The shield Harry was hiding himself in had been definitely broken. He smiled.

Louis eventually got the note correct as they played the song the second time and he was quite unsure, but he saw Harry quirked his lips just a little bit at that.

Louis and Harry played and played until Louis began to feel his fingers sore but it was okay, he didn’t mind, as long as it was with Harry, and he was not sure if ever an opportunity like this would open up in the future so he might as well make the most out of it.

After the third or the fourth time, the song in itself came to a natural, close and everything was completely still except maybe, for the buzzing rush of joy Louis was surely feeling in every single vein in his body.

“Thanks,” Louis said, smiling down on the boy beside him. They were barely touching but Louis could almost feel the body heat radiating from Harry’s body. It was beyond creepy but the only point in that was that he was _very near_ to Harry and he was just so fucking happy beyond words, okay.

Harry took hold of his sketchpad and seized a marker from the front pocket of his jeans (and very tight too, Louis noticed) and started scribbling something on a blank slate of paper.

And now, Harry was attempting to talk to him, too? Louis tried his utter best not to crack his jaws from emitting the biggest smile he ever had to give.

_No bad intentions huh_

Louis couldn’t stop a giggle from coming out his mouth which turned into a full-blown laugh a second later. He saw Harry bit his lip and smile a little, too and _no,_ it was definitely not butterflies flying in his stomach right now, thank you very much.

“So, Harry. Friends?” Louis said bravely.

Harry stifled a short, soft laugh and began scribbling again in his sketchpad. Okay, maybe, it was butterflies in Louis’ stomach but whatever.

_Too soon_

Louis almost took it the hard way but then he saw Harry grin a little, writing again.

“Come on, make my entire year, Harry,” Louis whispered sincerely, crossing his fingers, wishing for the rush not to go downhill from here.

As Harry scrawled his reply to Louis, residents of the institution came flooding in to the lounge, filling the room with unwanted noise. Harry flicked his gaze to the direction of the people coming in as Louis saw how his face turned into the literal form of uncomfortable. Harry ripped the page and folded it into four haphazardly. He took Louis’ hands, opened it and placed it inside, closing it after.

Harry stood from the comforts of the chair, adjusted his hoodie slightly and put a small grin in his face as he was leaving, avoiding other patients as he did. It took Louis a few seconds before he realized that Harry was leaving him and he should say goodbye so he shouted, in the loudest voice possible, “I’ll see you when I see you, Harry!”

Louis was giddy with excitement and opened the parchment quickly – with shaking hands (oh god) – but with enough cautiousness so that it won’t rip because it would be fucking stupid for him to do so.

_Acquaintances, for now =)_

Now, when Liam asked Louis later why his Google history was full of ‘acquaintance meaning’ and ‘limitations of an acquaintance’ and ‘how to jump from acquaintances to friends’, Louis answered him with the most blinding smile, waving to Liam the piece of paper that was rapidly becoming Louis’ favourite thing.


	11. I Guess I Have To Find It Out For Myself Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever's good, Niall's there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait and enjoyyyy :)

Niall didn’t have exactly a very firm grip. That’s why he was kind of struggling to keep his food tray up for a few moments before he could reach Harry’s secluded (not to mention, seemingly far) table.

Aside from worrying about his quite feeble clasping of hands, there was still a bigger and looming glitch Niall had to face. Niall, for the first time in his stay in the institution, was actually having a good laugh. Once again, after a very long time, Niall finally experienced the genuine and hearty laugh he loved feeling back then.

It was worrying him because now, he was forced to wait until that laughable moment before he actually laughs. Now, he couldn’t just laugh randomly without a reason because at the back of his mind, he knew that there was something or someone who could make him laugh his heart’s content. He wasn’t the psycho-laughing critter that he was before. Now, he was just Niall.

And it was killing him.

He couldn’t afford to get discharged from this institution, not when his parents’ relationship and his mother’s well-being were both at stake.

But _Louis, Harry and Zayn_.

Niall never had a reason to laugh about something before. And now he had these three.

The lads were Niall’s newfound friends and Niall wasn’t expecting in the least that they would be as fun as they were now. Louis, with his witty and funny comebacks. Harry, with his usual flustered, bashful attitude (and he won’t speak but his face tells everything and he’s funny because he’s so clueless, Niall thought). And Zayn, the one he’s closest with (because tray-flipping-food-eating duo, duh), with the hilarious smirk he would pull whenever a brilliant scheme would come to him, and just basically all the shit that he would do just to piss everyone else off.

Meeting the three turned Niall’s boring (and fake) life inside the institution to something that he would be looking forward to as soon as the daily morning alarm rings.

So, as much as he was troubled by the fondness he had reserved for each of the three, Niall was glad and savouring the merriment he was getting his hands on because of Zayn, Louis and Harry.

Well, Niall could cut himself some slack, right? He needed not to be uptight with the shit he was troubling himself with. And besides, no one seemed to notice the slight change (it only makes sense because he didn’t have friends inside the institution before, Niall thought). And his psychiatrist was actually out of town for two weeks, so why worry? Niall decided that when the problem comes, he would just do something about it. He wasn’t ready to sacrifice the enjoyment he had now. Not just yet.

Balancing the apples on top of two milk cartons which were on top of a big cereal box which was located beside a large platter of tuna pasta (I should’ve gotten more, this won’t fill me stomach, Niall thought), he craned his neck over a sea of patients and saw Harry’s secluded table and wait –

Was that Harry smiling?

Goofiest smile I’ve ever seen in m’life, Niall thought as he chuckled and then taking in to point that alright, it was official that they never disappoint Niall when it comes to laughing.

Niall rushed to the table and, oh there’s Louis too, and okay. Now, it all made sense why Harry was wearing that hilarious smile of his. As Niall thought, they looked extremely cute together. Geez, they should kiss with the googly eyes they were sporting in. Or wait, maybe they already kissed?

Niall slammed the heavy tray on the table with a gentle thump and began munching his green apple when he asked, “So, did you two fuck or something?” He meant to asked if they kissed or not but what the hell, the fuck thing came out instead of it so, yeah, be it. Seemed the same anyway, Niall thought. That’s Irishmen for ya.

Louis instantly choked on the orange juice he was drinking and looked at Niall pointedly while Harry pretending to ignore what was just said but Niall could clearly see his tomato-red cheeks. Maybe he should stop calling Harry ‘Curls’ and start calling him ‘Tomato cheeks’. Because, really. Harry always looked like his cheeks (and only his cheeks) were exposed under the summer sun for a long time.

Niall laughed again. Such bashful, cute reactions, Niall thought. They really were funny. All of them, Louis, Harry and –

“Hey, where’s Zayn?”

“Oh, I haven’t seen him today,” Louis answered, Niall successfully distracting him of Louis’ obsessive habit of staring and smiling at Curly like he had this high school crush on him, to be honest.

“I wonder why,” Niall put on a knowing, toothy grin with matching waggling eyebrows that made Louis shot a shushing face to him. If looks could melt, well, Niall was sure Harry was a thin slice of butter in front of a thousand suns.

It only took Niall exactly four minutes and fifty-six to finish his tray (a new record this week, Louis keeps tab) and then gulping the last of his milk. Niall gave a two-finger salute to the two love birds (because seriously, he wasn’t that dense, with the blushing here and there, he could put two and two together), and then stood from his chair and went to the direction of the stairs leading to the roof.

The rooftop was the only place where Zayn could be in this early morning.

Aside from the reason that he was kind of disappointed he didn’t receive his extra share of food from tray-flipping, Niall rushed to the rooftop because he was a tiny bit concerned with Zayn. Among the three, Niall could clearly see that Zayn was the most unstable. Niall was thinking that underneath the anger issues, there could be a completely different personality Zayn was hiding from everyone. Or maybe, sometimes, from himself.

_Bloody hell_. He could be a fucking psychiatrist for that analysis.

Niall saw Zayn lying on the roof, with his hands crossed under his head, serving as a makeshift pillow. It was an effort for Niall to crouch down on Zayn’s level, with his god-knows-how-many-pounds of calories stored inside his belly, but in the edge, he managed to.

“Lovely morning we’re having, Zayn,” Niall chirped in, his azure eyes roaming the grounds which were made aglow by the early morning sun. He was guessing his blond hair would be glowing, too.

“What do you want, Niall,” Zayn replied, without looking at him and maintaining his cold, hard stare at the blue sky. Niall shot him a look.

“You know, I could’ve leave you with whatever you’re dealing with right now if you said ‘da fuck do you want blondie’ or ‘what the fuck are you doin’ ‘ere’. But you didn’t, so I will persist. What’s up with ya, man?” Niall replied. This was not like Zayn at all. He seemed like he was, but only a bit, _resigned_. Niall couldn’t see a glimpse of that familiar blazing glare of his or maybe his cringe-worthy curses every time.

 “Nothing. You wouldn’t wanna know,” Zayn said, still not looking at him.

“What you just said, you know that’s contradicting, yeah?”

“Doesn’t matter. Leave it be,” Zayn said with a long sigh. He closed his eyes and basked in the sunlight streaming his whole body and Niall thought that damn, he could never understand all this deeper shit Zayn was feeling right now. Or more like, he would never understand highly intellectual people like Zayn. With all their deeper and higher shit in life, really.

“Can I take a guess then? At least, you owe me that. You made me hungry, you know,” Niall said, nudging his elbow against Zayn’s ribs. Zayn only gave him a non-committal shrug of the shoulders and went back again to his dutiful gaze at the sky. Oh, well, that was enough for Niall to push through.

“Do you miss your family? Or is it Louis and Harry? Did you know that they are fucking?”

“What – when? You mean,” Zayn snapped at Niall, with Niall smiling for finally getting his attention.

“Nah, just messing with ya. But you do know they need to fuck right?”

“Yeah, but those two idiots are different. They’re downright blind. And Louis? Friendship crap, my ass. I bet they won’t until they get old and pruny. Unless one of them will have the courage to say it aloud.”

“Hmm. But enough about them. So it’s not your family, Louis or Harry. Wait, is it me? Do I smell? Does my laugh annoy you?” Niall asked, earning a laugh from Zayn himself. Niall smelled his armpits and nah, he makes sure he takes a bath every day and he always put deodorants, and he also tried laughing and nah, it was not that annoying, really. Or was he becoming used to it? Wait. “Are you falling for me, Zayn? Because if you are, I’m sorry, you ain’t gonna have this hot piece of body ever in your life and – “

“WHAT? Don’t be fucking disgusting, Niall. My plan in life is to be richer than Oprah and with your eating habits, I’ll be poorer than a fucking cockroach,” Zayn replied with an additional, “no offense, mate.”

“None taken,” Niall said with a long, hearty laugh. Okay, so it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Louis or Harry. It only made sense that Zayn was thinking about love and all that gooey shit, right? As his friends outside would always say, love could make you do all crazy shit and all that. Well, it wasn’t something Niall wanted to try because he’s crazy enough as it was right now. So he continued, “But you are in love, aren’t ya, Zayn?”

“I’m wishing that I wasn’t,” Zayn murmured, “But it can’t be undone, I’ve tried it before. It’s up to the other person, really.”

“Who’s this other person, then?”

“You wouldn’t want to know, Niall,” Zayn mumbled. Zayn stayed still, his eyes closed, his body relaxed. Niall did the same and started to think. It was not like he had anything to do other than to guess who Zayn’s mystery person was. He had so much spare time nowadays that he just couldn’t spend it by eating and laughing again and again. And, he couldn’t very well interrupt Harry and Louis’ mating process. Niall chuckled in the thought.

Niall was in deep thought as to who it was until it occurred to him (after a good twenty-four minutes) that he was the only one that was supposed to have this much of a spare time, not Harry, not Louis and definitely not Zayn. What was he doing here, anyways? Didn’t he have a psychiatrist to mess up?

“Zayn, don’t you have a session today?” Niall said as he bumped his elbows against Zayn’s ribs, who was actually sleeping. What the hell. In the fucking roof, Zayn, really?

“Too busy for that,” he replied in a breath but it was apparent to Niall how Zayn’s body slightly tensed at the question. Hold on a fucking minute – Don’t tell me –

And then it all clicked.

It was Zayn’s psychiatrist.

“What’s your psychiatrist’s name, mate?”

“Why would you wanna know?” Zayn said, suddenly shifting from lying down to sitting up, looking at Niall intently.

_Bingo_.

“Just because,” Niall replied, refraining himself from laughing. Oh, this was just too good. It was like he was fucking cupid or something. Everyone around him seemed to fall in love. First, Louis and Harry, and now Zayn, too? Oh, god, this was just way too good.

“Not fucking telling your sorry ass,” Zayn huffed. Niall then wore his biggest shit eating grin and waggled his eyebrows. “What?” Zayn asked.

“I guess I have to find it out for myself, then?” Niall laughed, picking himself up from the tiles of the roof and rushing to the exit, blatantly ignoring Zayn’s ear-splitting calls of “Niall! NIALL!”

Niall laughed his merry way to Zayn’s pschiatrist’s office.

Being cupid was a fucking hard job to do, but it was fun. 


	12. I Suppose I Can Let You In A Bit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unrequited love is the most difficult love to have. Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm flooded with school work. And writing this was my escape. Don't hesitate to tell me if it's a fail. Or summat. But I do hope you enjoy!: :) Larry next chapter. I swear on my own grave.

Niall paused to compose himself. He should stop laughing. He shouldn’t. He wouldn’t. Okay, okay. He wiped the sweat forming at his forehead from running and pulled his low-rise jeans properly for the first time (he never liked it when his pants go higher than half of his bum, if it did, he always pulled it lower). He knocked on the brown, wooden door and without waiting for an answer, he swished it open.

“Zayn, thank goodness, I thought you’re not going to come anymore– _oh._ I’m sorry, may I help you?”

_Oh boy._

Niall laughed shamelessly, throwing his head back, not really giving a fuck as to how embarrassingly loud and obnoxious he looked like he was. He did not want to take the cupid thing seriously, but _seriously_? This one’s got ‘I’m in love’ etched in his fucking forehead, for crying out loud. And to think that Niall wasn’t even at this room for more than five seconds. Jesus Christ.

Zayn was a fucking lucky bastard.

Wait.

If Niall could instantly sense that this doctor in front of him was hopelessly (and unfortunately) in love with Zayn, how could Zayn not know it? Zayn didn’t know about this, did he? He wouldn’t be moping around the roofs if he knew that this idiot in front of him liked him too. What the hell.

So, Harry’s mute. And now, Zayn’s blind?

Seriously, now, what was he? Deaf?

Yeah, you’re one funny lad, Niall thought of himself. He wondered why he didn’t pursue a comedic career. Or something. But enough about that.

“Hi,” Niall said as he was too busy observing this doctor in front of him to come up with a better and entertaining jumpstart for a conversation. Ha. Big brown eyes that made him look like a puppy, deep, chocolatey-voice, toned body underneath that white uniform, and those boss shoulders – _holy shit_. Niall didn’t need to go there to come up with a brilliant conclusion that, fuck, Zayn’s really getting it from this one. Whatever that ‘it’ is.

“Hello, I’m Liam,” Zayn’s psychiatrist said. Niall closed the door behind him and oh, he was gonna have so much fun with this one. Or maybe Zayn. Because Zayn’s the one who’s gonna end screwed up with this, right?

“Liam,” Niall repeated. What a lovely name. Zayn’s name was quite lovely, too. So Zayn plus Liam together is – _Ziam_. Wow, that sure was even lovelier. Way better than ‘Larry’, Niall thought. No offense to his first couple project. Louis and Harry’s name together sounded awful. But they were quite cute together so it didn’t really matter to Niall.

“Yes, Liam. May I ask what you’re doing here?” Liam said with a friendly tone. Okay, Niall never thought Zayn liked those polite ones. Quite surprising for his rouge attitude, but hey, Niall was the fucking cupid right? And no matter how the two looked so in love with each other, they still need a big push. So, Niall had some job to do.

“Oh, um. Zayn asked me to c’mere, actually,” Niall said, fighting his urge to laugh at his lie. But he couldn’t stop a giggle from coming out his mouth (again) when he saw how fucking elated Liam looked, with a tinge of blush in his cheeks and all. So Niall added, “Something came up, so he asked me to c’mere and tell ya that ya got nuthin to worry ‘bout.”

“Oh. Is that so? I suppose I have nothing left to do here, then. But, um, if you don’t mind me asking, what came up?” Liam innocently asked, the look of concern painted in his face.

If only Niall could slam to his puppy face the whole truth, but well, that couldn’t be that interesting, right? Like, where’s the fun in that? Niall was not a sadist, but he had to break it to Liam one by one, piece by piece, in an awfully slow manner that Liam had to figure it out by himself (him being in love with Zayn and Zayn feeling the same) and voila! More fun for him and another couple-y success! Aw, yeah.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this, though…” Niall faked a worried look.

“Am I not supposed to know about this? Well, I’m his psychiatrist, so I think it would help me understand him if you tell me.”

“Well…” Niall droned but silently observing Liam’s reactions. And oh boy, he was such an open book to read.

“But it’s alright if you don’t want to. I will not force you or anything.”

“I suppose I can let you in a bit,” Niall said in a teasing voice with a wink. He tried not to laugh at how Liam fidgeted at his gesture. God, how would Zayn handle this naïve one, he absolutely had no idea.  

“Please. Have a seat,” Liam gestured at the swivel chair in front of him.  Niall made himself comfortable with the upholstery and noticed the huge bowl of chocolate-chip cookies, enticing him to have a bite. So, he grabbed one and started munching.

To Niall’s surprise (well, not really, to be honest), Liam smiled at him and even offered him some tea. Which, of course, Niall never dared to decline. He could decline anything – _anything_   in the world, but not food. Or beverages. Especially pints.

“So, what’s the deal with, Zayn? Is he sick?”

“Oh, yes,” Niall replied. Sickeningly in love with ya, Niall thought.

“What? Where is he? Shouldn’t we go and accompany him now and –“

“Ho, hold your horses, mate. He’s not sick _sick_. He just thinks he is,” Niall replied, happily munching at his cookie. It was an effective distraction, really, from laughing at Liam’s priceless reactions every damn time.

“Oh. Well, that’s what I’m here for, right? To help him with these kinds of stuff, so I think we should just go to him and – “

“No, _no_ mate. You see, he’s confused.”

“Confused? With what?”

“His sexuality,” Niall deadpanned. And jesus fucking christ, it was as if Niall ignited some sort of switch because the doctor in front of him prompted a long, not to mention very much distinct, gulp, with his slightly slouched back straightening in an instant. Also, Niall didn’t think it was capable of doing that, but suddenly, Liam’s eyes were enlarged by a small fraction, making him look even more endearing. Niall laughed.

“W-what about his sexuality?” Liam stammered. Oh god, being cupid was the fucking best. And this Liam was supposed to be a fucking psychiatrist whose primary job involved emotions and thinking? He couldn’t be that slow, could he? And why the hell was he stammering?

“He likes lads.”

Niall braced himself for Liam’s reaction (because he was starting to get the gist that it was to die for, seeing Liam was so decipherable and all) but he didn’t expect to have _this_ kind of reaction.

It took Liam a full minute (Niall kept count, with the white desk clock in front of him) for him to actually react. Niall already had his fair share of laughs during the minute and wow, the loudness didn’t even distract the doctor from staring at whatever blank space he was staring. This one got it bad, Niall thought, still laughing his ass off.

Niall wished Zayn could see this one, right now. It was even worse than how revoltingly sweet Louis would look at Harry and vice versa.

“He likes lads,” Liam repeated to no one. Still staring at nothing. Niall chuckled.

“Yeah, lads, blokes, guys, men…”

“It makes sense. He told me he always dreams about me…n – _men_ sometimes,” Liam replied abashedly, coughing incessantly. So, Zayn’s been dreaming about Liam, too? Holy shit, this is way better than he thought it would be. “So, um, does he have a problem with that? I can help him. It’s not like anything’s going to change,” Liam said sincerely.

Okay, first he’s polite. Second, he offered Niall some cookies and tea. And now, he was being sensitive and supportive, at the same time? Whoa, what was there not to love about this Liam?

“I told him that when he confessed yesterday but he was still troubled, y’know and – “

“Wait – He confessed?”

“Yeah. I didn’t even say my reply yet because I’m a fuck up and all, y’know, but he dashed to the roofs –“

“To _you_?”

“Yes. Got a problem with that, mate?” Niall said with a toothy grin. This was it. Liam was supposed to run to the roofs and tell Zayn everything, that he’s in love with him and he didn’t want Niall entering the picture, and yes, he’s alright with Zayn’s sexuality, and he’s even more okay with Zayn’s anger issues because he understands him and now Niall’s gonna have fun because another friend of his inside the institution would be luckily together with their soul mate and all that shit Niall never believed in –

But it never came.

Instead, Liam gave him a small smile, quite defeated but still genuine and sincere and _shit_ , Niall wouldn’t be able to handle this.

“No, nothing. I was just – “ Liam mumbled, his big brown eyes mysteriously turning glossy. Oh no, please don’t, Niall thought. “You know what? Since I have this so much spare time in my hands, why don’t we talk about you? Like, what makes you think you’re messed up? Zayn likes you, right? Isn’t that good reason enough?”

 _Fuck_.

“I, uh, well. You can guess, that well, I, uh laugh too much. So,” Niall said, laughing. But fuck. How was this Liam capable of being kind to him still? Haven’t he crossed a line, or something? It was obvious, the hurt in his eyes and he was just too into Zayn to deny it and why was he doing this?

“If it makes your heart happy, then why not? Contained laughter might be dangerous y’know. Like, you can suffer from a broken rib or two,” Liam joked, while picking his pen up and grabbing his clipboard from the top drawer.

 _Fuck_.

“Well, um, I laugh for absolutely no reason. In the most random of times,” Niall fidgeted in his seat. How long had it been since his psychiatrist left for a vacation? Maybe it had been too long. Was he really this conscious of his answers before?

“Well, you’re not laughing now, aren’t you?”

Again. _Fuck_.

What the fuck is wrong with this person?

“Um, I have to go. I just – “Niall said, standing up from the swivel chair, a look of worry outlined in his face. He almost tripped with the protruding carpet and _jesus fuck_ – since when did the tables turn? Why on earth was his heart beating this fucking fast? How did Liam manage to render him speechless and well, basically like this?

Niall rushed to the door, opened it and thank the gods for the wonderful, mouth-watering smell of food coming from the cafeteria that momentarily distracted him when –

“You didn’t tell me your name.”

Fucking Liam and his politeness and sincerity and all his shit. And fucking Zayn for being right when he said ‘ _you wouldn’t wanna know, Niall’_. Just fuck.

Niall turned around slowly. He wasn’t supposed to smile but it broke out without him even knowing that he did and said, “It’s Niall.”

No, Niall’s insides did not turn mushy when Liam beamed him a smile back. No, it was definitely not butterflies. No, Niall did not have to calm his heart beat. No, Niall was not glad he met fucking Liam. No, Niall was most certainly not falling – for Zayn’s fucking psychiatrist, of all fucking people.

And, no, Niall didn’t think _‘Niam’_ could just be as good as _‘Ziam’_.


	13. Wait Maybe I Shouldn't Have Said That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deeply apologize for how long this one took to get posted. Uni is not fun. Not at all. Enjoy!

Harry always liked fascinating people. He liked them because they have interesting point of view sand usually add sparks of beauty, intellect and humour to his dull world. He also knew better than to get too close.

But with Louis, everything flew out of the window.

Harry was sure he was absolutely mad. Nothing good would come out of forceful ways, Harry knew of that very well. But with Louis, no matter how many times he tiresomely pushed himself to him, Harry delved in. Harry gave way to Louis’ glowing personality. He surrendered.

Well, he couldn’t really blame himself completely.

Louis was, well, kind of _irresistible_.

With those sparkling blue eyes, that dazzling smile and contagious laughter, not to mention that lovely fringe of his, Louis would always give you that impression saying ‘hi-i’m-louis-I’m-a-lovely-person’. And that was merely his aesthetics. His brilliant mind and funny thoughts also added up to the persona Louis’ keeping. And he seemed to be very successful at doing so.

It was definitely not Harry’s plan to be acquaintances or later be _friends_ (Harry cringed at the word) with Liam’s assistant.  But, again, it all went out the window.

Maybe, Harry was getting tired of his usual life inside the institution. Maybe, he was missing human interaction. Maybe, he was missing his old self, that Harry Styles who used to be funny, loud and loving life. Maybe, he liked Louis and he was just in denial that he wanted to be Louis’ friend because giving up (yet again), made him look weak.

But, just in case, Harry reminded himself not to make the same mistakes he did in the past and be _careful_.

“Penny for your thoughts, Haz?” Harry heard Louis said. The bustling noise of the early morning cafeteria didn’t matter when Louis spoke. He would always hear Louis’ lovely voice. He didn’t exactly have a choice. It was not like he could filter his hearing. But apparently, his hearing was doing some filtering for him because he _kept_ on hearing Louis, for chrissakes.

Harry grabbed his sketchpad and started writing. The wonderful gift Liam gave him weeks ago, now never left his side. Now, as much as he hated to admit it, he needed to talk. Well, not talk _talk_ but you know, give responses to whatever Louis wanted to say. And to say it was obvious that Louis wanted to talk to Harry all the time, to win Harry’s heart with interaction, it was a completely an understatement.

Louis never left Harry’s side. It was troublesome for Harry because day by day, he was getting used to the feeling of someone’s attention was always on him and him only. He feared that he might be getting greedy because in the weirdest sense, Harry liked it. Just a bit, Harry convinced himself.

_Haz?_

Harry lifted his sketchpad and raised his eyebrows at Louis’ new nickname for him. It was amusing, how Louis managed to give him a new one every single day since that ‘ _piano-teaching-incident_ ’(as Harry would call it). Babycakes, Behbz (in an attempt to copy Zayn’s accent), Curly (in an attempt to piss Niall because Niall would always say ‘hey, I used that first, Louis!’), Pal, Sunshine, Harold, and even sometimes, (god forbid it) Hoodie-boy.

“What, don’t like it? It’s better than Harold, Haz. See? Haz. _Haz_. It rolls ‘round my tongue just good, Haz” Louis said with a smug grin, munching his cold oats, looking at Harry expectantly.

_Do what you want,_ Harry beamed his sketchpad to Louis. Louis couldn’t help but smile.

__________________

“Ugh, it’s so fucking early in the morning, you twats,” Zayn grumbled, sitting beside Louis, eyeing him and Harry on the other side of the table, who both were wearing their googly-eyes. Stabbing his banana with a silver fork, the middle portion looked like a puddle of you-know-what but Zayn continued his assault. He needed to do this, to let his stress out.

Fucking hell.

Zayn, who seemed to be making a fucking record here, hadn’t fought someone for a long time (a long time in Zayn’s world translated to three days) that it looked as if he already forgotten when his last brawl occurred, who was it with, and how it felt. Fuck. He was a mess. He couldn’t be himself.

Fucking Liam.

Goddammit. And this Liam was supposed to be helping him? Don’t make me laugh, Zayn thought.

It had been a plenty of missed sessions already since he attended Liam’s appointments and he hadn’t hear from him anything since. It should have been better for Zayn, because who knows, he might forget about the stupid psychiatrist with those big, brown eyes and that nose (god he hated that fucking nose of his), and that smile and that wonderful, too-good-to-be-true personality. But fuck, Zayn most definitely did not forget about Liam.

Quite the opposite, Liam seemed to have decided to fill Zayn’s whole fucking mind, all throughout the days, save for when he would be sleeping (yes, the dreams fucking stopped and goddammit, you have got to be kidding me, Zayn thought). Zayn would think about Liam when he’s eating, when he’s with Niall, when he’s at the roof, when he’s at the shower (he swore he didn’t have dirty thoughts about Liam, okay, maybe once, alright, it was twice), when he’s at the lounge listening to Harry and Louis playing the grand piano, when he’s at his bed, trying to sleep, and fuck, even when he would wake up, the first thought was _Liam_.

God-fucking-dammit.

What had become of him? He was acting like a fucking high school girl, so stupidly, helplessly in love with a fucking guy who was supposed to be nothing but his doctor.

“What’s the matter, Zaynie? Woke up at the wrong side of the bed?” Louis inquired Zayn sweetly, although his gaze was still focused on Harry who was trying not to fidget under Louis’ stare. Fucking hell, if Zayn were Harry, he would file a fucking case of something or whatever against Louis because wow, that stare could well be treated as that of something violating. Or something. What the fuck was wrong with these two, honestly.

“If you only knew what kinds of beds they have here, you wouldn’t ask that,” Zayn replied. Niall, who was sitting beside Harry, laughed generously. Again, it was too early for this.

“Kudos, mate. You won’t get to wake up at the wrong side because you won’t be able to move yer body the whole night,” Niall told Louis. It was true, Zayn, on his first night during his stay, tried to move and alas, he woke up with a jerk as his face met the cold, hard floor. He nursed a black eye the morning after. “Or maybe, it wasn’t the bed, Zayn, huh?” Niall continued while chuckling and chewing a huge scoop of cereals (how Niall always managed to do that, Zayn had no idea), his eyebrows waving up and down.

“Shut your trap, Niall,” Zayn grumbled. It was too fucking early for this. The day Niall visited Liam, Zayn knew that Niall knew of it. Knew of everything. And it was curious that Niall seemed to know more.

“Or what, lover boy?” Niall giggled. Hearing the word ‘lover’, Louis flipped his attention (finally, to Harry’s relief) towards him and Niall.

“Hey, that’s a good nickname! Haz, what about it? _Lover boy_?” Harry rolled his eyes at Louis but he still managed to give a small smile. Fucking hell, they’re both whipped.

“Louis, I told ya to stop _nicking_ my nicknames. Hey, wait, that was fucking funny,” Niall laughed. Why am I hanging with this bunch of idiots? Zayn thought to himself. “So, lads, did you hear the latest news about our Zayn?”

“Niall, don’t you fucking dare – “

“So, what about it Lou and Curls? Do you want to know about Zayn’s –“

“Niall, I fucking swear to god – “

“For God’s sake, Niall! Come on, tell us,” Louis stood up from his seat and budged Harry over, squeezing himself beside Harry over that one-person seater. Opportunistic little twat, Zayn happily thought. But that was not the point. Niall was about to tell them that he’s in love with Liam and he had to do something about it because he would be downright fucked if he let anyone knew his weakness. He was weak enough as it was, honestly.

“Our Zayn, here, is _in love_.”

As soon as those words came out of Niall’s mouth, Zayn was prepared to stand up and tell him ‘that’s it, you little blond Irish fucker,’ and leave (yes, just leave, pathetic but he couldn’t hurt Niall because he’s Niall) but Louis beat him to it. Louis looked like he had an epiphany, his blue eyes widening and widening and then he shouted, “Holy shit. You are. Zayn, Zayn. It makes sense, I just have to tell – Harry come with me, let’s go.”

Harry who didn’t seem to follow Louis’ quick thoughts, just seized his purple hoodie at the breakfast table and went after Louis who was rushing out of the door of the cafeteria, leaving a laughing Niall and a gaping Zayn behind.

_________________

Niall never meant to betray Zayn’s hard-earned trust but he just had to do it. He had to tell someone his secret for Zayn to make a fucking move because, really. Niall might just get wild and do something like asking Liam on a date or something because fuck, Liam was really _something_. But he wouldn’t do that.

Not when he knew he had a job of getting the two, blind idiots together.

Having feelings for Liam, whom he barely knew for more than ten minutes, was simply pointless. It would lead to nothing. It would amount to nothing. And who was to say Liam would feel the same? Niall was bonkers. Well, Zayn too, and Harry, but Niall was the worst case.

Besides, it had always been _Liam and Zayn_. There was _no_ Liam and Niall. Not at all.

And, admitting his budding feelings for Zayn’s psychiatrist would be quite dangerous. It would also mean making himself as normal as possible and that in itself was a big no-no. He couldn’t afford to get released by the institution, not when his father might leave his mother. At least, not yet.

“So, Zayn. Should I drown myself now or should I throw myself on fire? Do anything just don’t eat food in front of me while I’m tied up. Wait, maybe, I shouldn’t have said that,” Niall laughed.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Zayn gave him a quizzical look. Alright, maybe killing him was out of the question. Good lad, Zayn. Good lad. Or maybe it was Liam he should be thankful for because of this amazing personality Zayn was showing?

“Nothing, forget about it. Where do you suppose Louis and Curls are going to?”

“I dunno. I reckon to the lounge to play more of that grand piano of theirs,” Zayn shrugged, forcing himself to eat his mutilated banana.

“Yeah, maybe that. Or to Liam’s office, hmm, who knows,” Niall said casually, waiting for Zayn to burst aloud. And (holy fuck that was quick) to Niall’s amazement, Zayn’s pretty face turned sour and suddenly his mouth was like that of a fish out of water, opening and closing, in an attempt to say something. Niall never found something funnier in his whole life.

Because, Zayn was stupid. He was so fucking slow. Of course, that was where Louis and Harry would be heading, duh. Was this what love makes of people? Uhuh, thanks but no fucking thanks, Niall would like to keep his brain, thank you.

“Fucking hell. Niall, you piece of shit. We’ll talk about this later, you hear me?” Zayn shouted, running out the cafeteria. Niall laughed and started selecting left-overs from Harry’s, Louis’ and Zayn’s tray. Oh wow, happy fucking Christmas to me, Niall thought.

Well, that is if Zayn would still want to talk about how he would want to end Niall’s life, when Niall knew Zayn would want to talk about how things ended up just okay between him and Liam instead.

Niall sighed as he ate the first of his many green apples.

Unrequited love was a bitch. But having the chance to make a move and not do so was even worse.

Especially if you’re the fucking cupid.


	14. Happily Ever After Yeah? Or At Least, I'm Hoping It Will Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It's been what - a week? My apologies.

Though he would never admit it to himself or to anyone else for that matter, Harry felt a strange thrill of exhilaration as he followed Louis to wherever he was leading him to. It had been a while since he spontaneously jumpstarted for no reason, just running away from nothing in particular, forgetting everything else and just focusing on the bubbly feeling he had inside of his chest.

He knew he should have been back at the cafeteria, eating his cold cereals peacefully but with Louis’ contagious enthusiasm, Harry conceded. It was not hard to notice, Louis’ enthusiasm, because he did not spare Harry a glance (really, Harry was okay with that) and he was in a continuous, loud mantra of “Haz, come on, faster, _faster_.”

They sped of the hallways with a dash, and when they finally got to where Louis wanted them to be, Harry had to stop and clutch his now-sweaty shirt and catch his breath. Harry had to give Louis an affronted look because why the hell was he not sweating and not gasping for breaths?

“Y’alright, mate?” Louis said with a grin, his hands wiping stray strands of curls lingering in Harry’s damp forehead. Harry tried to hide his cringe (if the cringe was something positive, Harry had no idea) and he was apparently getting better at it because Louis did not notice it a bit. Harry thought to himself that if he were to be friends with Louis, sweet, touchy-feely-all-the-time-to-anyone-and-everyone-Louis, he had to at least get used at his constant attempts of skin-to-skin (or sometimes skin-to-hoodie) contact with him.

_You aren’t sweating. At all_

Again, Harry pretended not to cringe at the glorious laugh Louis was having right. It was deeply contagious that Harry almost wanted to have a good chuckle for himself as well. Harry turned another page in his seemingly thin sketchpad as he waited for Louis’ answer. “I’m quite the athletic. Or at least, I aspire to be. I’m quite good with footie, y’know,” he said with a chuckle.

_You didn’t tell_

“Well, I’m telling you now, am I not? One of these days, I’ll teach you, yeah?” Louis answered, pulling Harry inside the now-opened wooden door of – wait, Liam’s office? (Oh, and Louis’ too.)

“Liam, Liam, guess what?” Louis voice boomed the dull drone emitted by the office’s air conditioner. Liam seemed to cringe with surprise at the bolt from the blue (really, no surprise there, even Louis’ boss was having a hard time handling, well, _Louis_ , Harry thought in amusement), making him drop a pile of papers in his hand.

“What, Louis. Hello, Harry! How have you been? Everything alright? Is Louis harassing you?” Liam looked at Louis uninterestedly and looking at Harry with such concern that Harry thought that no, it was not possible for Liam to be like that, to be so flaccid in one second then cheerful in the other. Perks of being a doctor of emotions and all that shit, eh? Harry mentally laughed at the thought.

“Have you quite finished?” Louis snapped, his palms automatically resting at his hips.

“As a matter of fact, Louis, yes. I’m quite finished,” Liam replied dejectedly, picking up the papers he dropped earlier, and continuing to read it. With that, Harry realized the surrounding air of dismal aura around the room. Harry thought that maybe it was one of those days for Liam. Those days that your mood just kept getting damper and damper, and that no matter what you do, or no matter how you’ve been the good kid, nothing will do to make it better. Those days that made you out of your character, that others seeing this other side of you would make them question your whole fucking existence.

Because, never did Harry saw his psychiatrist this gloomy. Liam was not like Louis, with his nowhere-to-be-found-not-to-mention-infinite source of happiness and cheerfulness and all things wonderful, but he was not unhappy. He was always contented, most of the times happy and pleased.

“Cheer up, mate. Harry here has some surprise for you.”

Harry looked at Louis in disbelief. Was he on drugs?

_I do?_

“Yes, you do, Haz,” Louis winked his way to Harry’s direction. Harry tried not to cackle because it looked so fucking awkward, Louis doing a wink. It was not stylish at all.

“You do, Harry? That’s good,” Liam said as he beamed to Harry with obvious effort from Liam’s side, and Harry couldn’t quite help but to give a higher regard to him because even though he looked like a sad puppy lost in the rain, he still opt to think and care about his patients.  Harry gave him a thumbs-up in agreement and then he immediately stepped in front of Louis to cover himself from Liam, to avoid him in seeing a what-the-fuck-are-you-on-about face at the fringe-haired lad, because, really. He did not quite follow Louis’ logic. Then again, logic was never Louis’ strong suit.

To Harry’s ultimate surprise, Louis pulled him closer in a swift motion that he failed to anticipate what was coming next. Louis clutched both of Harry’s shoulders, and stood on his heels, on tiptoe, to reach Harry’s ear. He brushed off some stray curls in Harry’s ear and holy fuck, Louis began to whisper, “Let’s do some charades, Haz. You know charades, right? And you know Zayn’s in love with Liam, right? And Liam’s been moping because Zayn haven’t been attending his sessions and I just can’t tell him directly, right? Because he needs to figure this out for himself, and we’ll be only doing a little tap in that head of his and then voila! Our job’s done. Happily ever after, yeah? Or at least, I’m hoping it will be.”

To say that Harry was overwhelmed was the fucking understatement of the year.

As Louis touched his shoulder with his surprisingly small hands, Harry felt his pulse go an outstanding two hundred miles per hour with the gentleness and softness that it handed over Harry. But, then Louis still had to fucking whisper in his ear, and so Harry’s breath hitched as Louis’ own was felt against Harry’s ear. Just fuck.

Harry tried to gather his thoughts but with the strings of sentences that Louis said, he could only make up bits of incoherent words like _charades, Zayn in love, Liam, ever after_. It was not his fault that he was distracted and very much light-headed because he was not the one who came close _without_ any warning at all, he was not the one who _touched_ , and he was not the one who fucking _whispered._

Of course, Harry was not fucking used to this. He was unmoving and unblinking, still trying to register what happened. 

Louis stepped out of Harry’s personal space and mouthed a ‘got it? Okay, let’s do this’ to him before he called out Liam’s attention again, “Liam, alright. Drop that paper now and watch our lovely Haz do some charades. A fair bit of warning though Harry, Liam’s shit at this game.”

“I most certainly am not!”

“Shut it, Liam. Now, Harry.”

Harry still stuck at the moment of deciphering what Louis wanted him to do, and it was obvious that he wasn’t doing too well with that. He simply stood there, in front of Liam and Louis, immobile and had absolutely no idea what to do. He could see Louis doing a circular motion of gesture with his hands, urging him to go on, but the thing was, he really couldn’t. Not that he didn’t know the game but it was because he couldn’t play charades when the only words that reached his head was that of _charades, Zayn in love, Liam_ and _ever after._  He couldn’t make do with that, right?

It was full five seconds before Louis dawned to a realization that Harry didn’t get what he said earlier. Louis, once again, invaded Harry’s bubble and shifted even closer to Harry than it was before. He whispered, “Haz, come on. You can do this. I’ll help you, I can be Liam. Yeah, I’ll be him. We just need to have this idiot realize what he’s missing, yeah? That, and he needs to fucking stop moping.”

Harry nodded his head in response because, okay, he was going to do this, for fucking Louis. He didn’t even know Zayn that much, to be honest.

“One word.”

Harry tried his utter best to imitate Zayn’s furrowed eyebrows, and even go to the lengths of messing up with his head of curls to form a failed quiff.

“Uh, hair? Curls? Angry curls? What?”

“Come on, Liam. You know this shit!” Louis shouted.

Harry couldn’t think of anything Zayn did that stand out except for the table flip he always did with Niall so he grabbed the papers from Liam’s desk and made Louis hold it, who was muttering ‘yes, yes good one Harold!’. Harry flipped the papers out of Louis’ hand, maintaining a grumpy looking face, and once again emphasizing his ‘quiff’ hair.

“Paper? Thrashing paper? Wait – um, was that supposed to be – _Zayn_?”

Harry’s face flooded with relief, giving Liam a thumbs-up because wow, he was kind of good at this, unlike what Louis said earlier. Harry made an effort to proceed to the next part, of showing Zayn’s love for Liam but then he heard a muttered ’uh-oh’ from Louis. Harry followed Louis’ line of sight and it revealed a Zayn gasping for breath.

“Louis! You – piece – of shit,” Zayn wheezed.

“Right, Liam! Harry was impersonating Zayn and if I were you, if I were Liam Payne, come on Haz do something, the game is still on– “Louis blabbered like crazy. Fuck, they shouldn’t get caught, Harry thought. Zayn would roast them alive.

So, if Liam was Louis, and he was Zayn and Zayn was supposed to be in love with Liam –

“Harry, stop, don’t –“ Zayn yelled as he surged forward but it was too late. Harry did the unthinkable, grabbing Louis’s arms, closed the gap between them and smacked his lips with Louis’ cheek.

_And, holy shit._

Harry’s lips left Louis’ cheek as soon as it came, and it was the best feeling Harry ever felt when he saw Louis’ face, completely lit up and screaming unspoken words that said ‘wow’. Harry tried to convince himself that it was because of the fucking game, that he needed to show Zayn’s unrequited love for his psychiatrist and not because he wanted to please Louis, or god forbid, to kiss him–

Louis snapped Harry out of his thoughts as he grabbed the younger boy’s larger hands and dragged him out of the room, dodging Zayn’s apparent tackle. “Harry was Zayn. I was Liam. Harry fucking kissed my face, Liam. Go fucking figure. We’ll leave the two of you alone, then!” Louis shouted joyfully, his voice echoing in the hallways as they ran.

When Harry did not let go of Louis’ hands until they arrive at the garden in which Louis tried to teach him football, Harry did not question it.

Even more, when Harry squeezed their entwined hands tighter, as if he was afraid of letting go, Harry did not question it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not how I wanted this chapter to turn out. But let me know what you think! :)


	15. What Do They Call It These Days?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was me and you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guise! Your responses are utterly amazing. I love y'all. Hope you like this one as well! =)

Ever since he decided to be a psychiatrist, Liam’s life had never been as average as it was before. His normal eggs and bacon breakfast with matching morning radio turned out to be that of ton of paper works and follow-ups. His customary 9pm sleeping time at his comfortable bed, with a tall glass of milk placed at his bedside table (and a granola bar, just in case he was still hungry from his usual dinner of tuna pasta), was replaced with long hours of phone calls from different patients who were needing of consolations and sweet, reassuring lines. Also, sometimes, phone calls from a drunken Louis who would pester him to go downtown to the club he was then working at because a hot chick or bloke just came in.

So, the ridiculous stunt Louis and Harry just performed should be unnerving for him.

But, again to conform to the fate that dictates him and his odd life, Liam was flabbergasted.

Liam never had guessed that Louis would have this impact to any of his patients, especially to Harry. Louis, who was too much for anyone to handle (maybe, except him and Lou’s family), who had this too vibrant of a personality, the one which Liam initially thought wouldn’t complement Harry’s.

And Harry. He seemed to be opening up more and more to him (and to Louis, can you believe that) despite his unusual case of still choosing not to speak. Harry’s advancement was something very much note-worthy to be aware of because from little to none emotions, he turned into that person who just _kissed_ Louis at the cheeks. Never in a million years did he imagine that Harry would do actions like that due to their unhurried therapy of letting Harry do and talk as much as he just wanted to. It was surprising that Louis could pull out something like that from Harry.

“What was that about,” Liam muttered to himself, trying to make something out of the situation Louis and Harry just pulled and –

Oh.

Zayn was here, standing in his office, a thing that did not occur for so long for Liam’s peace of mind.

His last session with Zayn was the best sitting Liam’s ever had in years. Yesterday’s session with Zayn was the best session Liam’s ever had in years. He never imagined Zayn could be that respectful and funny and just fun to be with in general. Liam genuinely knew for himself that he really did enjoy Zayn’s company that time. And it didn’t even give the impression of being a patient-doctor thing. It was as if they were long-time friends, casually bantering with a few inside stories here and there.

There were so many things Zayn disclosed that day that it never left Liam’s mind. There need not to be any shouting or curses or shoving against the wall (thank goodness) before Zayn would want to at least talk about something. Zayn’s love for his family and friends outside was another discovery Liam made. Aside from, well, the ultimate discovery of Zayn’s wonderful, fantastic personality.

Zayn was improving. And Liam was completely glad for it.

But then, Zayn stopped coming. For no reason. Without any explanations for Liam.

Or maybe, it was because of what his friend Niall had disclosed about his sexuality? But Niall said that Zayn said that he had nothing to worry about, right? It could also be that Zayn was entirely happy with Niall that he somehow forgotten about his sessions with him. Or maybe it turned out badly, that Niall rejected Zayn all along, that Zayn was pretty much depressed.

Liam wanted to know the answer but, throughout his career, Liam learned that forcing a patient won’t do. It would do more damage than anything else, and only letting the patient come to terms with himself would be the best way to go back to the usual flow of things, if such things might happen.

Hence, he did not push himself to Zayn. He did not ask for Zayn to come back and have therapy sessions with him so he made sure to contact his warden every night to check up on Zayn’s well-being. Still, Liam did not have the chance to see Zayn, none at all.

So, it wasn’t his fault that he fixed his eyes on Zayn like a lover would wear when he’s meeting his other half after a very, very long time. 

It wasn’t really Liam’s fault if he missed Zayn.

__________________________

“What was that about,” Zayn heard Liam mumbled.

And he couldn’t fucking stop a laugh from coming out his mouth.

Zayn did not know exactly if it was more appropriate to just curl up and die at the situation, because Liam was the fucking _thickest_ person he had ever met and will be meeting. He hadn’t been inside the room for more than ten seconds but he could already guess what the two fucking lovebirds were up to, horribly impersonating him (in the case of Harry, because no, he wouldn’t kiss Liam like that) and Liam (in the case of Louis, because, no, Liam wouldn’t wear that smile but he would smack Zayn’s forehead instead or maybe kill him or something along those lines).

Zayn remembered how his life flashed in his eyes as he saw Harry attempted to kiss Louis because Liam must not grasp the awful truth that Zayn was in love with him, but now, seeing Liam was absolutely and utterly _clueless_ about the whole fucking thing, Zayn had to laugh. Hard.

Zayn clutched his stomach, which was now in unspeakable pains because of laughter, and had to bend down the floor to hide his unpleasant laughing face from Liam.

“Zayn, are you alright?”

“Yeah – I’m cool. I just – hold on a sec, please,” Zayn replied, ignoring Liam’s concern as he continued to laugh his face off.

Because, it was just fucking ridiculous.

He was in love with a bloody idiot.

On a second thought, supposedly, it was Zayn’s chance. It was Zayn’s chance to see how Liam would react to his affections, without troubling himself of confessing and all that shit. But fate, as she may have it, wouldn’t let Zayn go on that easily, would she? Fate had to fuck things up and make Zayn do a fucking move.

But Zayn wouldn’t lay down.

Zayn would have this his own way and would not let an invisible entity screw up his life and make him do shit that he did not want to dive into. Because confessions were utter crap. It won’t end well unless your life was a romantic movie.

“Hi, Liam,” Zayn said with a grin, finally reducing his long laughs into small chuckles.

“Hello, Zayn. Um – are you going to leave?” Liam said, his eyes darting to the open door behind Zayn. God, he was so fucking naïve. How the fuck did he manage to become a fucking doctor.

“Do you want me to?”

“No! I mean – no. If you’re not that busy, we could talk,” Liam said sheepishly.

“Great,” Zayn said, taking hold of the familiar swivel chair in front of Liam’s desk. Liam went back to his own behind his table, giving his coat a tug to straighten it, plastering his face with a constant smile. Which Zayn couldn’t quite figure out if it was creepy or endearing.

“So, how have you been, Zayn? Anything interesting to share?”

“M’fine. Nothing much, really.”

“Oh. Is that so? What have you been doing? It’s been far too long, you know,” Liam said with a soft chuckle that rung bells in Zayn’s ear, with Liam’s eyes crinkling adorably. Zayn tried not to do something stupid that he might regret later.

“I fell into a routine, I guess. Breakfast, lunch and dinner with the three idiots, watching silly things done by the same idiots, and sleeping, thankfully, without the same idiots.”

“All things fine, then?”

No, not really because you’re such a fucking prick and you stole my heart, Zayn thought.

“I think so.”

“Good for you, Zayn.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing what?” Liam tilted his head slightly to the side, looking confused as ever.

“Why are you so kind to me when I didn’t show up for so many times? Why are you not asking me the reason why I stopped coming here? Why are you so calm about this?”

Zayn couldn’t help but let off some steam, and it angered him (just a tiny bit) that Liam was sporting a knowing smile. Liam put down his clipboard, stopped writing and gazed at Zayn.

“Do you want me to ask you?”

“No.”

“There you go. I’m not going to force you, Zayn.”

“Why?”

“Because, I think you may be getting better. If you didn’t need to talk to me during those days, and there haven’t been any mess all over the institution, then I guess it’s getting better, right?”

Zayn was stumped. “Yeah, maybe it is,” Zayn breathed as he released the clutch of his hands at the swivel chair he was on. With Liam acting this way, Zayn was painfully reminded what kind of a person Liam was that made him fall in love with him. Liam may well be naïve at times, but he could always be the sensitive, genuine Liam he was right now. Either way, naïve or not, Zayn was sure he would probably still fall for the lad.

But the sad thing was, Zayn couldn’t be the only one. Liam could be like this to most of his patients, or even worse, to anyone. Liam could also treat the rest of the whole fucking world the same way he would treat Zayn. And just thinking about that hurt Zayn.

So, it was the worst kind of love, really.

What the fuck were Louis and Harry and Niall thinking? As if he could confess to the lad. As if he could be treated differently if he did so. As if he could get what he wants.

But, this thing right now felt as if like a certain closure or something and it made Zayn feel a clicking of a switch inside him, signalling him that well, he could be himself again. He wouldn’t have to run away again from Liam again. He wouldn’t have to run away from himself again.

“How’s Niall, anyways, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He’s the same little fucker with that annoying laugh of his.”

“Zayn! That’s not the way to talk to your well – um, what do they call it these days? What do _you_ call it anyways?”

“What do I call what?”

“You know.”

“Seriously, I don’t.”

“Hasn’t Niall told you?”

“Tell me what?”

“That I know,” Liam said while blushing. Wait – what? Liam knew of it? The whole of Zayn’s undying love for him? Niall (that blond Irish fucker, I’m gonna pulp him to bits, Zayn thought), told Liam everything about it? That couldn’t be, right?

“W-what do you know?” Zayn stammered because holy shit. Was Liam pretending that he didn’t know about it all along? Was this the chance Zayn was hoping – actually, not hoping for?

“Well, that you and um – Niall are, you know…” Liam trailed off.

And Zayn was like, “What?”

“Together.”

“WHAT? Niall he –“

For the second time that day, Zayn burst out laughing. Again, he was torn between just curling up to die and just laughing until he eventually do so. Yes, it was decided that he’s going to murder Niall Horan, and he would be the one to tell the newspapers all about it, just to have the bragging rights of having been the one to kill the most bizarre person in the earth.

“Last time I checked, it was Niall who had this problem with spontaneous laughter.”

“Oh god, this is so fucking outrageous. _Me and Niall?_ I need to like fucking wreck something before I go completely insane. ”

“Zayn –“

“Yes, yes. There are many ways to dispel anger and wrecking something is not the most productive, blah blah blah. I know, Liam. I won’t,” Zayn said, breaking off Liam’s attempt to stop Zayn from doing something stupid.

“See? I told you, you’re getting better,” Liam said with a smile. Maybe, it was okay not to make Liam realize that it was _him_ and not (most definitely not) Niall who was Zayn’s in love with. In a way, Zayn could thwart the awkward situation of talking about his sexuality with Liam.

Maybe, it was for the best that Liam was thinking that it was Zayn and Niall, and not Zayn and Liam.

Zayn gave a small smile, “Let’s call it a wrap, then?”

“Yeah. It was good to hear from you, Zayn. I’ll see you next time,” Liam said standing up, ushering Zayn to the door. Liam added, “Or whenever you want to.”

Zayn opened the door, again trying his utter best not to do anything stupid because Liam was just so fucking kind and thoughtful and gentle and _just nice_ and god, Zayn hated him so much. Zayn tried to smile, and when he did, Liam spoke softly, “I missed you.”

Fuck.

Zayn turned around to face Liam in an instant, pulling him close and enveloping him in a tight hug.

Not to do anything stupid, my ass, Zayn thought. Zayn wasn’t able to stop the fucking urge to just do fucking something – he just had to do something before he explode, or implode (whichever was the worst between the two) because he just couldn’t do anything reckless and Zayn-like (constant thrashing and destroying here and there) in front of Liam.

“Just because you’re so good to me doesn’t mean I’m already better. You’ve no idea how fucked up I am right now,” Zayn whispered in Liam’s ear, and he could feel the way Liam’s body tensed at the sound of his voice. He ruffled Liam’s brown hair, stopping a moan from coming out because it was so fucking soft and consequently feeling Liam relaxing at the gesture.

Zayn didn’t give Liam a chance to reciprocate the embrace, letting him go but not before saying, “But, yeah. I missed you, too.”


	16. I Don't Have A Choice Do I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Footie. Of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, it has been too long.

The sun was shining brightly, accentuating the luscious greens of the little garden of the institution. The garden was not the best out there, with its humble size, but the lawn was neatly trimmed and the rose bushes were blooming brightly as ever. As small as it was, there were even one or two garden chairs, alongside with some benches underneath some shady trees. Without doubt, the garden was not a place for football.

“Haz, come on,” Louis yelled, standing at the other half of the garden, his white t-shirt awfully sweaty and dirty. He kicked the ball at his feet with enough force just to let the ball roll unhurriedly at Harry’s direction. But to Louis’ amazement, the curly-headed boy still failed to manage to kick it back, even with that pace.

Louis strode to Harry’s side and mocked, “Are you still keeping score? ‘Cause with the way this is going, I don’t think you still need to – _oof_ !”

Ignoring the pain in his stomach from Harry’s quick slap, Louis tried not to chuckle as he watched Harry stomp his way to the benches grumpily, his eyebrows wrinkling and his lips pouting excessively. God, how could anyone not see Harry as somebody so fucking adorable.

It had been a while since Louis first felt those softest lips against his cheeks, and he still did not know how to take the matter. He never expected that Harry would be able to do such thing. So, maybe, it was the reason why he felt that he was on fucking cloud-nine when Harry did so. Not because of the kiss, but because of Harry’s initiation to do it. Yeah. Definitely not the kiss.

Ever since that fateful day in the lounge, Louis had been living his life in one of the most wonderful ways possible. To Louis, every day with Harry was like his birthday, with a present waiting to be unwrapped, because there had not been a day that passed with Louis not discovering something new about the silent boy. Harry was someone to be delicately unravelled, and it was Louis’ best luck that he was blessed to be one of those people to catch sight of Harry’s real personality.

If truth be told, Harry was not silent – not at all. He might not be speaking but there were countless of ways, as Louis had observed, in which Harry could say what he wanted to say, just not the most usual way of making his voice be heard.

First among the list was Harry’s brilliant sketchpad. It was the most convincing proof that Harry wanted to speak out, just like the rest of them. Aside from those jaw-dropping pieces of music and those cute doodles, Harry’s sketchpad was full of those responses he had for Louis. And because it was no denying the Louis was talkative, it only made sense that Harry’s scribbles of sentences amounted to the same number. Louis couldn’t help but feel delighted that Harry’s replies for him occupied a larger space compared to that of Liam’s.

Also, Harry’s body had this certain way of moving that Louis could instantly interpret if the boy was in a specific mood or not. It would be obvious to Louis that Harry’s harbouring a bad mood during the times the boy would have this slight droop in his shoulders. It happened twice, when Louis pestered Harry as to the boys’ past, and when he made Harry finish his bowl of cereals (because, seriously, Harry was not getting any healthier).

And when Harry would bite his lower lip, Louis would know that he was hesitating or something was boggling his mind, something was making him unsure. Like the time when Liam asked Harry if he wanted to change his schedule with him, in which Harry eventually said no, because apparently, he didn’t like changes and changes were scary.  

And Harry’s brilliant green eyes would light up and crinkle whenever he would try to supress a laugh at Louis’ corny jokes. But in the event that Harry would fail in doing so, Louis would have the pleasure of seeing those perfect pearly whites of his, and maybe sometimes, even better, a small, breathless chuckle.

“You know, it took me a lot of practice before I made my first goal,” Louis stifled a smile, as he sat beside Harry in the bench, overlooking the whole of the small garden.

From Harry’s originally folded arms across his torso with an annoyed look on his face, he took hold of his sketchpad and wrote away something, not caring how the scratching of the marker against the paper sounded too loud that it might be possible for the ink to pass through the next page.

_We’ve been practicing for almost a week_

“Well, it was years for me, Haz,” Louis replied. Louis thought that if Harry was only capable of speaking, he might have explicated some curses or maybe even extract a groan, but seeing that he wasn’t, Harry simply resorted to huddling himself, folding his knees together and hugging them, with his head bowed down, making his luscious curls the only thing visible from where Louis was sitting.

Louis tousled Harry’s curly locks (and concealing a gasp of surprise because _fuck_ , it was so damn soft) and offered,”Hey, cheer up. We could practice more if you want to.”

_Don’t trouble yourself Louis_

“Look, you can take these practices as my payment, you know. For playing piano with you. I’ve been learning a fucking lot from you.”

_Still, I don’t think I’ll be getting better_

_And don’t swear_

Louis chuckled at Harry’s stern expression. He moved closer to the boy and encircled his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“I can’t imagine the life of a person who doesn’t use swear words. Don’t tell me you’re one of them, Harry,” Louis answered, feigning a serious face.

_I am_

“For real?!”

_If thinking about ‘em doesn’t count_

“There we go,” Louis said, both of them grinning. “So, are you up for more rounds?” Louis added.

_I don’t have a choice, do I?_

“Nope.”

_Even if I just figured out that I’m shit at coordinating my thoughts with my feet_

“Yep. Ooh, and nice swearing, by the way,” Louis winked.

_Even if I told you that you’re actually bad at this_

“What? How very dare you, Harold. I bet you to tell that to my face when you watch me beat the shit out of Stan’s team next weekend – oh. _Oh!_ ”

_Oh what Louis_

Louis scrunched mentally at the burst of ideas that filled inside his head as the realization that he, along with others, would play a small, friendly match against Stan’s team this weekend. He had completely forgotten about that, now that he was much focused on Harry’s improvement at the game, his and Harry’s bonding over the game, and well, just basically Harry. The thought of bringing Harry to the match was the best idea that ever crossed his head over the entirety of the week but a slight hesitancy cautioned Louis to think about the matter more thoroughly. Because, well, it wouldn’t sound like a _date_ , would it?

And there was the looming notion of asking for permission. Specifically, _Liam’s_ permission because he’s Harry’s therapist. God, Louis could already imagine the ‘no!’ Liam would shout at him if he ever decided to do so.

“Come on,” Louis said enthusiastically, grabbing Harry’s wrist, breaking into a fast stride back to the confines of the institution, going to the direction of his and Liam’s office. 

It wouldn’t hurt to try, right?


	17. May I Ask What Is 'This' Exactly Then?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience, loves! xx

Liam couldn’t help but put a small frown in his lips as droplets of his Swiss Miss cuppa spilled at his papers. It was not a surprise, really. He should be getting himself used to the loud banging of his poor, (not to mention abused) wooden door, showing a frantic Louis on the other side.

“There’s my man. Liam. My man,” Louis roared, similar to the time Liam made the wrong decision in accompanying him to a Manchester United game. On a Sunday night. His ears were ringing up until his last class at the uni the following day.

Liam swiped the dark brown drops just before they started to dry up, in an attempt to save his files from wrinkling. He sighed. God, it was too early for this. Alright, maybe it was already quarter to twelve but hey. “Hello, Harry. Good to see you. Anything I can help you with?” Liam called to his quiet patient, casually ignoring his best friend who _obviously_ wanted something from him.

Harry merely shrugged his shoulders, evidently communicating ‘don’t look at me, I’ve no idea, too’. Liam sighed. “What do you want, Louis?”

Louis’ blue eyes started sparkling like fairy lights. Uh-oh. This couldn’t be good. Not at all.

“Well, I’ve been thinking and– “

“That’s bad.”

“Shut it. So, as I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted, I was thinking maybe you could give me permission to – “

“No.”

“But you haven’t even heard half of it, Liam!”

“I said, no. I don’t need to hear it, Louis. It sounds risky as it is.”

“Risky? Risky, why?”

“Because, as you have said, you’ve been thinking.”

“Oh fuck off, Liam,” Louis said unfalteringly and looking a bit affronted, earning a slight but somewhat amused laugh from Harry. Hmm, interesting, Liam thought.

“I’m not the one who’s asking here, Lou.”

“God, you’re so fucking cheeky! What the hell had Zayn done to you?”

Liam cringed at Zayn’s name. Things had been quite alright, if one would ask Liam, after the hug that transpired between the two of them. Zayn began attending their sessions once more, only this time, with less thrashing and more small smiles. The embrace wasn’t that long, really (to Liam’s disappointment?), but it was the most surprising thing Liam encountered for weeks. And to think it was Zayn – _Zayn_ who cursed all the time, _Zayn_ who had anger issues that a single flip of a coin might open floodgates of fury (depending on his mood), _Zayn_ who was the most troublesome patient he had in his entire career – who initiated the hug, catching Liam in a shock. He knew Zayn was improving but he didn’t imagine that the change would be this – _good_.

“Do you want to have my permission or not, Lou?” Liam rolled his eyes at his best friend, purposely hiding the tinge of warmth spreading in his chest because he could almost taste the success of how Zayn would turn out. He was positive Zayn would overcome his strong emotions of anger, and somehow, someday, after having enough of Liam’s therapy, he would be able to learn how to control them.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. Look, Harry and I came here because we want your permission,” Louis spoke, shushing Harry who was tugging his sweat-clad shirt, looking like a lost puppy, as if he had no idea about this permission thing. “Louis, if you’re forcing Harry in any way –,“ Liam warned.

“No. No! I’m not. I just – Wait a second,” Louis stammered, then leaned towards Harry (who may have fidgeted slightly), and started whispering things at Harry’s left ear. Liam exhaled a sigh, rethinking his actions of letting Louis befriend Harry in the first place. The boy was sensitive and very much anti-social (that was obvious since their first encounter), and now after just a few weeks time, Harry’s personal space could be swiftly violated by Louis? Liam frowned, contemplating if Louis’ involvement with Harry was doing the boy good or not. Because the worst case scenario was Harry getting too attached, or like, too dependent to Louis.

It would be okay if Louis would stick around here forever. But thinking about Louis – energetic, uncontainable, unpredictable Louis – Liam silently doubted if that would be the case.

But, as Louis would always say, live in the moment, right?

God, Liam was getting crazy. He should sign himself up for his own psychiatrist one of these days.

Louis slightly nudged Harry who beamed a strained smile. “See, Harry’s fine with this.”

“May I ask what is ‘this’ exactly, then?”

“Well, Liam, if you’re really this eager… I want to take Harry outside this Saturday,” Louis said seriously. Liam must have shown his furious face (grumpy old Liam face, as Louis would like to call it) by the way Louis ducked (Harry following him instantly) and covered both of his ears, scrunching his eyes closed, as if a bomb was going to blow.

Well, actually, a bomb did blow.

A bomb inside Liam’s head screaming ‘NO’ because it had to be one of Louis’ terrible ideas and it would bring nothing but trouble because his patient was still not ready to mix with other people sans him and Louis plus their intimate group of breakfast buddies, what more of going outside the institution? The outside world would be crazy for Harry. He wouldn’t be able to handle all of it at once.

Liam would never let Louis take Harry outside.

_________________________________________________

Louis knew that Liam would never let him take Harry outside.

So, he had to use his ace card in persuading Liam to go with what he and Harry wanted. Alright, what _he_ wanted singularly.

“Don’t bother in actually saying turning me down Liam because if I were to paint your face right now, I would only need a cadmium red can, a huge paint brush and a blank canvas, and just write a larger than life ‘NO!’ to it. Yeah, thanks a lot, mate,” Louis announced, feeling Harry heave a breath of relief by his side.

Louis deliberately ignored the sharp twist in his gut as he sensed the almost disapproval from Harry (just almost, because he can argue his way and convince Harry eventually, that’s for sure). This was the brightest idea (if not the stupidest, because, really, it took him this long to realize that they needed some fresh air) he had as of lately, and he was determined not to back down. He knew that it would be better for Harry to extend the walls of his life, to not be content of the four corners the institution was putting on him.

Also, Louis wanted to show Harry how good he was at football because clearly, the boy wasn’t convinced enough that it was Louis’ best sport. Louis would show him. Ha.

“Thank you for putting that out there. So, as you said Lou, no. I’m not letting you.” Liam crossed his arms.

“Alright. I was kind of thinking maybe you could go with Zayn but suit yourself,” Louis trailed off, turning his back from Liam, ready to head for the door.

“Zayn? Zayn’s coming?” God, Louis was ready burst into fits of laughter because ohmygod Liam was so fucking easy to read. Louis could already imagine what kind of face Liam was currently wearing – that of the whipped ones; faces lighting up with mere mention of the names of their beloved. He was so transparent that even Harry had to turn his back, imitating Louis’ action of covering his mouth to prevent the escape of giggles, momentarily forgetting the dilemma of going outside or not.

“He’s excited for it, saying he loved footie too, but no one’s gonna accompany him now, so imagine the poor thing…” Louis continued. Just a bit more, Louis thought.

“Louis, I swear to God if you’re lying to me right now – “

“Come on, Harry. Let’s tell Zaynie our bad news,” Louis droned, sneaking his hand on top of Harry’s shoulder, and using his other to grab the doorknob. Any moment now, Louis thought.

“Louis.”

“Thanks for the time, mate. Laters,” Louis said, opening the door, letting Harry go out first and –

“Stop.”

_It’s my win_ , Louis thought, smiling like a creepy madman, but wiping it off as soon as he turned around, facing Liam once again.

“Yes, Liam?” Louis said sweetly. Too sweetly in fact that it must have been the cause of Liam’s pained expression.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“I’m letting you. I’ll sign whatever paper was needed,” Liam sighed dejectedly. Louis literally crossed the whole of the room in a span of a millisecond and actually smacked his lips against Liam’s cheek, whispering ‘ _thank you thank you thank you’_.

“But.”

Louis groaned.

“You must keep an eye on Harry all the time. I don’t want him leaving your sight.”

“Yes, yes, okay. Got that.”

“Good.”

“Hey – wait. Hello, I’m supposed to play remember? Harry should be the one who must keep his eyes on me,” Louis winked in Harry’s direction. Harry merely looked downwards but the blush hinting on his face was quickly noticed by Louis. It made Louis’ stomach squirm with delight.

“Not my problem. You need someone to look after him while you play.”

“Liam, he’s not a child!”

“Then, no deal, Louis.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going to ask Niall to come with, anyways. So, there you go. Done,” Louis said, rolling his eyes.

“And.”

Louis groaned even louder.

“No later than 9pm.”

“God, yes, mum!”

“Now, go. Ask Niall. I’ll have a word with Harry.”

Louis exhaled a ‘sheesh, you’re so demanding’, but was ready to comply to Liam’s wishes because his own was granted. He gave Harry’s arms a squeeze and said soflty, “You’ll be alright?”

_Yes_

“I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

_Yes_

Louis gave Harry a final smile and dashed to the direction of the cafeteria (because it was a default that Niall was there), waving a goodbye to Harry.

Louis was sure Harry would enjoy his time outside.

_____________________________________________

Harry was sure he would not enjoy his time outside.

But it was Louis.

So, it was decided. As much as Harry was anxious and nervous and just a bit _frightened_ by the idea (because it had been _years_ , for crying out loud, he was entitled to be a little scared, thank you very much), with Louis by his side, it did not sound as bad after all.

So what if it’s full of unknown people? So what if Louis friends’ outside might not like him? So what if he gets out of place? Harry did not care, he wasn’t doing it for them. Alright, maybe he was not exactly unnerved, but it was all for Louis. Louis, who had been nothing but sweet and caring and friendly to him at all times.

Maybe except that day when Louis suddenly appeared to be snappy at him – just him, no one else, not even Niall whom Harry considered more maddening than himself – only to find out later that he was simply proving to himself and Harry that they _loved_ each other, because Harry kept pestering him that day, scribbling ‘what’s wrong?’ and ‘did I do something?’, and Louis never had the chance to continue the charade (god, Harry learned that Louis was actually planning to carry on till the next day _sheesh_ ), enveloping him in a tight hug, muttering ‘your eyes are so fucking irresistible, you have no idea, Harold’. By all means, Harry was worried to some extent because for chrissakes, Louis’ definition of love was so fucking _twisted,_ worse than how his curls do. Failing to resist someone’s charm and petulantly asking how the other was equated to love. Yeah, it was so Louis.

But that was the point. It was Louis, and with Louis, it was pointless.

Louis was different kind of adventure everyday just waiting to happen. And if Harry was asked, he loved it. Absolutely.

“Harry, you alright?” Liam asked kindly from the office. Harry stepped inside the room once more, closing the door with a small creak, and finally giving Liam an almost negligible nod. Liam smiled.

“So, I wanted to ask you face-to-face. I want you to be completely honest with me okay?”

Harry gave another nod.

“This going outside, do you want it?”

Harry eyed Liam, softly biting his lower lip, slightly torn by the situation. He opened his awfully trusty sketchpad and began writing.

_No, not at all_

“I see. We can cancel this at once. Is Louis forcing you, though?”

_In a way, yes_

Liam grinned, “Sorry about that. He’s always been like that since we’re still children.” Liam stood up from his swivel chair, drank a small gulp of his chocolate cuppa before walking near to Harry.

 “You don’t like to go?”

_No_

“You don’t want to go?”

_No_

“But you’re planning to, aren’t you?”

_Yes_

_It’s Louis, you see_

Harry sheepishly raised his sketchpad. It was a big step, yes, and he was awfully feeling nauseous just thinking about it, but it was Louis. There was something about the way he talked to Harry, convincing him to come with. The way his eyes would light up animatedly just describing how big the field would be caused Harry not just to picture it, but to _feel_ how the grass would tickle his toes if he ever crossed it barefooted, how the cheers of the people watching would make his neck hair stand, how the sunlight would bring about warmth inside him. He couldn’t get out of this even if he wanted to. Louis was inescapable.

“I see it, Harry. Very clearly,” Liam smiled knowingly. 


	18. Now Don’t Make Promises You Won’t Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, by the next two chaps, the plot will go deeper. x

“Yeah, now crawl back to your mother’s womb, you wimp!”

His bloodied and hurting lip did not matter a bit. Zayn kept his smug grin on his face even though it fucking hurt to do so, giving his opponent a middle finger as the weary figure retreated, accompanied by a handful of wardens. Such a wuss, Zayn thought.

The fight had been exhilarating.

The hard punches, the quick jabs, and the swift ducks allowed Zayn to experience a rush, the tips of his fingers tingling at the thought of defeating the thick bastard who fucking dared to insult Liam. He was getting along fine, his temper surprisingly getting longer than usual (Zayn wondered why), the lad throwing unintelligent remarks on the other table at the cafeteria about him, his group stifling loud laughter, with him not doing anything (except for the bent fork in his hand) but you had to draw the motherfucking line somewhere. As for Zayn, the line was drawn as soon as he heard, “I’m betting that his excuse of a psychiatrist is either plain crazy for taking a doofus like him in or he’s just that gay. He must be –“

Something inside Zayn broke and all hell broke loose.

Zayn moved from his seat towards the unlucky lad, grabbed the motherfucker’s annoyingly iron-pressed collar, crumpled it with his clenched fists as he made the lad stand to his feet, and gave a flash of his teeth in mockery before he threw his hardest punch yet. The bastard was thrown off balance, stumbling to the ground and spewing some blood mixed with saliva. “Fuck. You’re dead,” Zayn heard the other said but he paid no attention to what he was saying because god, how he missed this, his head full of chants of _get up get up fight me come on_.

The bastard proved to be somewhat good, beyond average if Zayn was to rate him, because although Zayn didn’t want to believe it, he got an equally hard blow against his face, thus the bruised lip. It didn’t do anything to break Zayn from his motivated posture but it only fuelled him further. He hadn’t been in a fight with someone who’s quite strong for weeks. This one was begging for it. He just had to _crush_ this one.

Two and a half minutes, Zayn thought.

It would take full three minutes for wardens in the lounge to reach the cafeteria (he knew that much due to his – how many fights before again?) so he had to eliminate this piece of shit in less than three. Two and a half minutes, then.

Zayn had lost count at how many punches he gave the bastard (because he had to be fucking fast to destroy the git) but he knew that he received only a few – the first in the face, the other on his gut (god, he was good, Zayn smiled to himself), and the last a half kick to his thigh. Zayn was already pinning his severed opponent to the ground, gripping his collar once again, and warned him, “If I ever hear another insult about my psychiatrist from that disgusting mouth of yours again, you can kiss your face goodbye. Understand?”

A muffled squeal could be heard if only Zayn was paying that much of attention to the lad. Zayn was already at his feet before wardens flooded the cafeteria (only then that he noticed that he had been gathering a small audience). They were shouting, asking what the fuck happened (their words, not Zayn’s) as they approached the lad’s crippled form, and Zayn could only give a grin in response. He frolicked towards the exit, ignoring the _‘come back here’_ he heard, and said, “Sorry boys, late for my session.”

The fight had been exhilarating, indeed.

Exhilarating, yes. Enjoyable? Not so much.

Zayn knew that the fight was different right at the moment he punched the nameless bastard’s face (Zayn didn’t bother finding out his name, not worth it at all). He was well aware that he could have started the brawl any minute he wanted to before that particular moment when the other insulted Liam but for some reason, he didn’t. He didn’t feel like getting up and beating the shit out of the bastard, even though he was thrown with countless insults about him before hand. He didn’t want to fight before the lad said something about his psychiatrist. Fuck. It sounded as if he wanted to defend Liam’s fucking honor.

Jesus.

And he didn’t get to enjoy the fight that much because of the nagging voice at the back of his head, which sounded suspiciously like Liam, saying ‘you don’t have to do this, you don’t have to hurt one another, it’ll do you no good.’ Thus, his punches were not full-on punches. More like, half-hearted punches.

Bloody Liam.

Bloody Liam and his eyebrows and his smile and his fucking nose and his everything –

Zayn heaved a sigh. God, it was the worst. Being in love with psychiatrist that might or might not have been treating him specially. Zayn didn’t have a fucking clue.

As soon as he stepped in front of the familiar wooden door of Liam’s office, Zayn wiped the smeared blood on his knuckles, as well as droplets of it in his lower lip, and adjusted his skewed _Guns N Roses_ shirt (fuck, it was one of his favourites, he should’ve punched the bastard harder), fixing himself a little bit. He ignored the apparent bruise forming in his stomach and entered the room without waiting for Liam’s permission.

“Aren’t you a bit early today, Za – “

“Hello, Liam.”

The look of worry in Liam’s face was impressive. It sent a woozy feeling in Zayn’s slightly injured gut, getting rid of the pain in an instant and replacing it with a pleasant sensation in Zayn’s entire body, in his heart mainly, with soft murmurings of _yes you care about me you do you do you care about me more than you do for the rest of your patients combined yes yes_ matching to its fast-paced beat.

Liam quickly dropped the fountain pen he was holding, and rushed to Zayn’s side. He stopped in front of Zayn, giving the impression that he wanted to check Zayn’s busted lip and everywhere else that needed his attention as well. His hands were halfway through touching Zayn’s face but he halted midway, and dropped it to his sides, clenching and unclenching.

“Who did this to you?”

Zayn tried to bite his lip in accordance to hiding the shit-eating grin he wanted to show Liam, because he was not expecting this. He was waiting for _what did I tell you about fighting_ or _I thought you’re getting better already_ , but it never came. Honestly, he was anticipating for reprimands the moment he entered the room, but apparently, he would be welcoming a very concerned Liam, for which Zayn was entirely grateful, if he would say so himself. And god, he had no trouble enduring the pain of the oozing blood out of his lips to prevent a smile from breaking from his face because he was so fucking happy but he couldn’t – musn’t – show it to Liam. At least, not yet. He was still savouring the blissful feeling of being important to Liam and cared about by him.

“I didn’t quite catch his name. But for you, I’ll ask him later.”

“Not funny.”

“Not trying to be.”

“Good. Is this all?”

“Is this all what?”

“Are there other bruises? Are there more?”

As if on cue, the throbbing pain in his gut made itself pronounced. Zayn must have unconsciously glanced at it, because Liam was looking intently at as well. He rubbed the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. Well, Liam couldn’t expect Zayn to be in his top form. If it wasn’t too obvious, Liam had been the one who influenced him _not_ to be in his top form. Deliberately instilling good manners and right conduct to him, every single damn session they had. Ugh.

“Sit. I’ll fetch my kit,” Liam said, authority seeping in his voice, but Zayn could notice its slight shaking as well. Zayn did nothing but to comply. Of course, Liam had a bloody medical kit. He was a doctor, after all.

Zayn made himself comfortable to the swivel chair, adjusting the way he sat because of the other shiner he had behind his leg. Liam rummaged the grey metal cabinet at one side of the office, bringing back a medium-sized med kit to Zayn a moment later.

“This won’t sting. I think,” Liam uttered softly, leaning at his desk to tower over Zayn, opening the kit and dabbing a cotton ball with Betadine.

“As if that measly thing would hurt me – _ow!_ ”

God, that fucking hurt. What the fuck was Liam doing, Zayn thought. Zayn looked at Liam with an affronted face, extending their distances as he attempted to cover his bloodied lip with his left hand. Liam merely removed Zayn’s hand in response and continued rub the cotton against Zayn’s lip.

The sting after the first few touches became bearable for Zayn. Although, a different kind of sting surfaced as Zayn noticed Liam’s expression. Liam was putting too much concentration to Zayn’s cut that he seemed to fail to note that he was actually biting his lower lip too hard. But that did not make Zayn unaware of the obvious frown Liam was forcing to hide.

Zayn disappointed him.

“You know, if you bite a little harder, I’m sure I’ll be dabbing your lip with that as well.”

Liam did not laugh but he did stop biting his lower lip. Zayn inhaled a sharp breath.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn whispered out of nowhere, his eyes avoiding Liam’s. If he didn’t, he should have seen the slight glow Liam’s own formed.

“Go on.”

“Liam.”

“Zayn.”

“I just – I wasn’t going to, really. He was so fucking annoying, tossing insults everywhere. He needed to shut up. I know. I know you always tell me to control myself – my anger, but this one was –,” Zayn stopped.

“This one was?”

_Insulting you and he had no fucking right to_.

Zayn wouldn’t be telling Liam that, of course. Because, it was practically saying ‘I’m in love with you, you prat that I just pulped someone for you!’ and Zayn didn’t want that. He was not ready to tell Liam yet. Maybe, he could wait for Liam to figure it out for himself. He was supposed to smart, wasn’t he?

“This one was different. He was mean. Too mean. I’m sorry. I swear this one’s going to be–,”

“Now, don’t make promises you won’t keep, Zayn.”

“I’m not.”

“Good. But next time, will you try? For me, please?”

A shiver ran across Zayn’s whole soul because fuck, he wanted to rip his hair out and just shout at Liam that _no, you don’t understand, this is all for you, and you don’t even know, I don’t even have to try, my body moves on its own when it comes to fucking defending you, and it’s so fucking hard because it’s the exact opposite of what you want me to do, to just stay put and not fight with anyone, but I can’t, because I’m so in love with you and what the actual fuck is that_.

Zayn inhaled a breath, “Okay.”

_

“This shouldn’t happen again on Sunday, alright?”

“What’s on Sunday?”

Liam froze. Of course. Zayn didn’t know anything about Louis’ football match on Sunday. Louis never told Zayn about it. He never asked Zayn about it. He lied to Liam. And now he was trapped in a very awkward situation he never imagined himself in.

Liam sighed. It was no use, wasn’t it? He had to be the one to ask Zayn to go with him this Sunday. Louis must have planned it all along. That sneaky little –

No cursing, Liam said to himself. No matter how annoying his best friend may be, for playing cupid, for tagging Liam with his games of whatever this may be. He needed to stay positive. No use in dwelling over things he clearly couldn’t change.

It wasn’t so bad, after all. With the great outdoors, Liam was sure he would enjoy himself. If he were to be honest, he was spending too much time in this cramped office of his. He was betting Zayn would have fun too, seeing that it has been weeks since the lad stepped outside the institution.

“Do you want to go out? On Sunday, I mean?”

“Are you asking me out? Why, Liam I never thought you’d fall for me but well, seeing I’m quite handsome, and you’re not so bad yourself, let me think about it…” Zayn faked a gasp.

“No! I mean, no. I mean, Louis,” Liam spluttered. Oh god. Zayn was rather good at making things awkward, wasn’t he?

“And you’re stuttering, too? How adorable,” Zayn added.

“Shut it,” Liam said in defeat of finding a more smart remark. But he did press the cotton ball harder to Zayn’s lip. Consciously or unconsciously, he would ponder about that later. “Louis has a football match this Sunday. Do you want to come? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“I didn’t think you can go outside.”

“You can, actually. If your doctor gave you the permission.”

“You’re allowing me.”

“Yes.”

“And why, Liam, would you be giving me the permission, may I ask?”

“I was kind of thinking that it would do you and Harry good. To go outside, I mean. It’s been how many weeks.”

“Okay. I’ll go.”

“Great,” Liam smiled at Zayn. It wasn’t that hard, asking Zayn out. To a football match. To watch their common friend Louis. It really wasn’t a date. Not at all. They were just going to watch their friend play against a team. It was a friendly get-together. Or maybe, like an extra-curricular activity which might improve Zayn’s well-being. Yeah, that’s probably it, Liam convinced himself.

“It’s a date then,” Zayn winked and Liam was doomed. 


	19. We Wanted Different Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I deeply apologize for the MAJOR lateness of this chapter. My real life has been too busy for me to juggle my time and still keep working on this baby. Also, to Sophia, I'm sorry I tried squeezing it but it was too long and I don't want to cut off details so, I swear, it's going to be on the next chap. I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT AND PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW. Thank you! xx

Niall was at his third ham and cheese sandwich when Liam decided to sit down in front of him, wearing that innocent puppy eyes Niall so detested.

A sinking feeling began settling in his stomach that he was forced to stop munching his sandwich for a second or two. Niall was almost too sure that this would happen. He was almost anticipating it, really.

“Morning, Niall,” Liam said with a bright smile, proceeding to take the red apple in his tray. Niall forced a laugh that he hoped was not too obvious. He seemed to be doing a lot of it lately. Not that he cared.

“Alright there, Liam?”

“Just fine. You? Has your doctor returned?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ve lost count of the weeks since the wanker left. Enjoyed abroad too much, probably,” Niall said noncommittally. It didn’t actually matter if the bastard decided not to come back and forget he had patients left in the institution. In truth, it did a lot of help to Niall, with the sudden freedom and all.

“And um. How are you and Zayn?” Niall heard Liam murmured, almost indistinguishable if Niall was not so very keen with Liam.

Niall almost scrunched his face and asked‘me and Zayn – what the fuck are you on about?’ or ‘mate, that’s kind of gross’ but he realized that _oh_. Of course. Initially, to make Liam jealous and eventually make him admit his feelings for Zayn, I was pretending to be Zayn’s person of interest, Niall thought. So, that was why Liam – sweet, innocent, naïve Liam – was asking about him and Zayn’s well-being. God, Liam could be so motherfucking good-natured and Niall had absolutely no control over the slight swelling of his heart, whether it was regarding about love or jealousy, he had no idea. Liam just couldn’t stop tormenting his (love?) life, could he?

“Yes, well about that,” Niall trailed off, thinking of whether coming clean to Liam or just make something up, which Niall knew would be stupid enough to land him in a messier situation. So, truth it was.

“You okay?” Liam asked.

“Me and Zayn ended it up already.”

Truth, my fucking ass. It was bad enough for Niall to be a lunatic who laughed at everything and now, he was verging on being a compulsive liar, too? Just great. Maybe, I should just fucking stay here for the rest of my life, Niall thought.

“Oh. I’m sorry about that, Niall. I didn’t know. I – Zayn never mentioned it, I swear,” Liam said in a hurry, sounding genuinely sorry that he brought up the subject. Niall smiled.

“Don’t worry. It’s fine. We wanted different things.”

There it was, another lie. Because deep inside, Niall knew that he and Zayn wanted the _same_ , _exact_ thing.

But the thing was, they couldn’t want it both at the same time. And Niall treasured Zayn enough to just fucking give up no matter how much it hurt.

First, a lunatic, second a compulsive liar, and now a masochist. God, he was worse than he thought he was.

Niall stifled a soft laugh, Liam glancing at him, looking worried. “We’re okay, Liam. Zayn and I. We’re still friends,” Niall said forlornly in attempt to convince Liam that he and Zayn happened (even though the mere idea made Niall shiver just a little because _eugh_ ).

“If you need anyone to talk to, Niall...”

“No, I’m fine. Honestly.”

_______________________

God, Liam could never be more embarrassed in his entire life.

How could he forget such an important thing? How can he forget that Zayn liked Niall? How could he be so stupid?

Liam should have remembered. But, when he tried and looked back at his and Zayn’s previous conversations, there was never a time that Zayn mentioned Niall. Not once.

How _odd._

Ha. So, it wasn’t really his fault after all, wasn’t it? It was because of _Zayn_ who simply forgot to mention his relationship with Niall. Zayn was really the one to blame.

Not him, of course. Not because he was blatantly trying to ignore the fact that Zayn was already taken in by none other than Niall, of course. Not because it made his heart twinge just a little bit when he found out about them. No.

Alright, maybe just a _little_ bit, Liam admitted to himself as he watched Niall laughed his way into his fifth sandwich.

Because he thinks that maybe Zayn’s a little bit _special_. Just a teensy tiny bit. Like a speck, no more, no less.

Truth be told, it took for Liam a whole night of eating Oreos, sitting in his bed, his telly turned on at HBO with some generic rom-com playing, and just staring at it blankly (silently picturing what might happen this coming Saturday), when the sudden realization came over him – that Zayn was slightly more than a patient to him. It wasn’t just because their talks were almost nothing like his usual long (and slightly tedious) doctor-comforting-the-patient conversation, but maybe because he was starting to treat Zayn as someone his equal, their relationship definitely leaning towards close friendship.

It felt like a piercing thorn was plucked out of his chest and Liam’s breathing seemed a little more at ease. He remembered sleeping that night with a silly smile in his face.

“Niall, come with us this Saturday. Me and Zayn and Harry are going to Louis’ football match. I would like it very much if you come.”

Now, that flash of sadness that came across Niall’s face was something he never expected.

___________________

Jesus fucking christ.

Liam was the fucking worst, he was betting _every_ ounce of his Irish blood on that. Liam was even worse than that drunkard in his favourite pub back home. Did Liam still have to be cruel till the very end? Niall wouldn’t be feeling this _whatever_ feeling inside his chest if not for Liam being Liam.

Did Liam really have to be this fucking kind to him all the time?

“Sorry, mate, but I think I hafta turn that one down,” Niall forced a smile.

“But why? It will be fun. I promise.”

“That’s not the problem. I know I’ll have lotsa fun with you lads.”

“Then what is? This can be good for you.”

Nope, most definitely not, Niall thought. Coming with Liam and Zayn in Louis’ footie match this Saturday would do no good for him. He was sure of that. He could already picture what was about to happen this Saturday, and it was only smart of him to decline Liam’s offer.

He was not going to just stand there, watching Liam and Zayn side by side, and have his heart broken.

Again.

Niall shrugged his shoulders and forced himself to eat even though the previously mouth-watering food he placed in his tray suddenly seemed unappetizing. See? Niall was just imagining Zayn and Liam together at the stands of a grand stadium, and look at where it had gotten him. He fucking lost his appetite. Which never happened. Ever.

Oh, how wonderful it was to be in love.

Niall sighed.

_______________

The week went by faster than Zayn expected, and when Saturday finally came, he was annoyed as fuck.

Zayn woke up earlier than usual which made him a bit annoyed because there was no reason to be awake by seven in the morning when Louis’ match starts noon. He should have been sleeping still.

Zayn’s irritation went into a full-blown annoyance when he realized he was taking excessive time checking himself out in the mirror. Sure, he could be vain at times, normally letting himself in front of the mirror for about ten minutes or so, but never more than that. For some reason, he had been standing in front of his mirror for too long already, as pointed out by the slight ache in his heels.

Surely, he couldn’t be fucking doing all of this for Liam, right?

Zayn got even more annoyed when he tried stepping out of the mirror’s view, only to come back a second later to check if the buttons off his shirt were in the right holes and if his outfit looked too formal for a football match. Fucking hell. He couldn’t be this in love with Liam to actually give a fuck about wearing something too formal for a simple footie match, right? So what if he looked silly?

A knock on the door was heard, and thank fuck for it because he was this close to punching his mirror to prevent himself from actually looking at it again. Zayn opened the door and found Harry standing sheepishly on the hallway.

God, this boy sure has self-esteem issues, Zayn thought. He shouldn’t be stooping this early in the morning.

“Harry, what’s up?”

Harry flipped the sketchpad he always brings and started writing.

_Can we go to Liam’s office together_

“Sure, let me just take one last look – FUCK, sorry I just, I mean let’s go?”

Harry stepped back slightly at Zayn’s sudden outburst. God, if Zayn could only tell Harry how fucking agitated he was for being so damn conscious when there was absolutely nothing to worry about. Zayn blatantly ignored the tiny whisper of ‘Liam’ at the back of his mind.

Great, way to scare someone off, Zayn thought.

Zayn strode outside his small bedroom with a loud huff, sniffing the puff of air he just exhaled to make sure his breath smelled fine.

And for Zayn, that was the last straw.

He needed not be this fucking conscious of himself, goddammit.

So, Zayn stopped his steps, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his face wearing the deepest frown mankind has ever seen, that from a mile away, anyone could clearly get the message that this one was fucking upset. He growled, not particularly caring if Harry found it creepy, and began disorganizing himself. He crumpled his shirt, forgetting how much he begged his warden to get it ironed last night, and then he kicked his newly shined shoes against the hallways’ wall, dragging it slowly to accumulate all the dirt, and finally, he shuffled his wax-slicked quiff and turned it into a bed hair thoughtlessly.

Zayn inhaled deeply and turned back, looking at Harry expectantly.

_You okay?_

Suddenly, Zayn felt relief surging his veins and actually felt _okay_. He had no idea what happened but whatever he did, it fucking worked. He finally felt normal.

Zayn smiled, “Actually, yeah. Sorry I was a bit out of it. So, do I look homeless or what?”

_Is that what you’re aiming for?_

“Not particularly.”

_Then, no. You look okay._

“Great.”

_Zayn. Do I look okay, too?_

It was only then that Zayn noticed Harry’s presence fully. He took a good hard look at the lad in front of him, scrutinizing Harry’s outfit. And boy, how surprising it was.

For starters, Harry got rid of those ragged hoodie that he wore every fucking day, replacing it with a decent light blazer that could not exactly be considered formal, rather going for a preppy look. He was wearing a new pair of trousers that seemed too tight (well, at least for Zayn’s liking), and his spotless Chuck Taylors which can be easily mistaken for something brand new, if not for the fact that Zayn sees Harry every day sporting it. And Harry’s mass of messy curls were actually tamed (how he did that, Zayn had no clue and had no intention of finding out) and went for a side-swept look.

Harry looked surprisingly okay. Great, even.

Zayn snorted, “That eager to impress Louis, huh?”

Harry immediately blushed and bobbed his head sideways in protest, but it was too obvious. Zayn knew very well that Harry dressed up to impress Louis.

“You’re cute. Let’s go,” Zayn muttered, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and leading the way to Liam’s office.

Zayn just hoped that Louis would not be too dense to notice it.

 


	20. Quicker Than A Melting Butter Underneath A Thousand Suns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4,356 words. Ohmygod. I hope this makes up for the long wait. Comments would be lovely. :)

“You okay?”

Harry felt more than heard Louis asked him. They were sitting close to each other in the backseat of Liam’s black car, on the way to the nearest football field. Harry curtly nodded and pulled a small smile for Louis and went back facing the window, drinking in the changing scenery outside.

Of course, Harry was not fucking okay.

Harry had never felt this anxious before. He was going outside – like, outside _outside_ , not the garden outside – and it had been so many years. He was not ready for this, physically, mentally, and emotionally. He will never be ready for this – for the people that he might have to interact with and all the mess that might ensue, for the stares that he might get for being strange and silent, for the disappointments, his own and Louis’.

Harry was dying to tell his unpreparedness to Louis and plead that he should just go back to the institution and spend the rest of the day holed up in his tiny room.

But he didn’t feel the need to trouble Louis with that. He already had a match to worry about, anyway. He could – _would –_ endure it, for Louis.  Because Louis was special. What was bearing a whole day outside compared to the sacrifice of putting up with my fucked up personality day by day, for so long and without complaints? Harry thought.

“Harry, if you’re not feeling okay with this, it’s alright. Honestly. I could tell Liam to take us back, right now,” Louis said seriously.

Harry offered him a smile again that he hoped would reassure Louis enough. It’s not alright but it’s alright. Go figure.

Louis didn’t exactly brighten up with what Harry hoped to be a reassuring smile, so Harry took hold of his trusty sketchpad (three-fourths of the leaves already filled) and started writing.

_I’m okay_

“You sure, Haz?” Louis replied, frown lines still etched in his forehead.

_Yes, I promise_

Louis finally gave in, sighing a breath of relief. “Well, you’d better be okay Harold because if you’re not feeling well, you won’t be able to see how hard I will kick their asses on the field.”

Harry snorted. It was Louis all over – to be worried one minute and be extremely confident of himself the next.

_I’m looking forward to it, then_

“Good. But only if you’ll be the craziest cheerleader of them all. I have tons of screaming girls out there, you know. All lined up in the benches, aggressively waiting for me to sweat my body away.”

Harry didn’t even stop himself from rolling his eyes.

_In your dreams_

Louis faked a gasp and pretended to be offended by Harry’s reply. “Say what you want, Styles but it’s all true. You can ask Liam about it. Although I’m pretty sure he’s one of them. Actually, he’s like the loudest of them all. Isn’t that right, Liam?”

Harry didn’t even bother to look at the mirror to see Liam’s reaction. He could already picture those caterpillar eyebrows of his psychiatrist drooping in exasperation.

“You’re being excessively talkative today, Louis,” Liam retorted, swerving slowly at a left turn. Beside him, Zayn chuckled lightly, his head supported by the car’s window.

“Shut up, Zayn. And Liam, you’re being excessively annoying,” Louis deadpanned, kicking the driver’s seat a little too hard.

“So, Harry, how about it? Like, if you honestly beat Liam in cheering for me, then maybe, I’ll even give you a wink,” Louis bargained.

_You know I’ll scream my lungs out for you if I could_

The sudden realization hit Louis so obviously that Harry had to look away from his friend’s eyes. Which was doing the thing again – the sharp turn of sparkly blue to a dull, apologetic, one – whenever Louis would have blissful moments of forgetting Harry was different, that Harry was unlike any other person he had in the past because Harry deliberately chose not to speak for a reason he still didn’t know quite yet. Well, that was just great. Another disappointment that Harry’s abnormality entailed.

Harry bit his lip, silently thinking of something else (there had to be something else) that he could do for Louis in replacement for the shouts of support that the footie player wanted the most. He should have known it was useless – coming down to see Louis’ match. It’s not like he was going to be like the rest of the people there, both watching _and_ screaming for their team. He might as well be a fucking pillar supporting the stadium, for chrissakes.

“You know what, I’ll give you that wink now.”

Always trust Louis to save the day.

***

Saying “Louis is fantastic!” would have to be the biggest understatement of the year. Harry never expected Louis to have this sort of inner football star in him. Louis kicked the ball effortlessly, as if the ball was naturally a part of him. Harry remembered the times when they practiced in the institution’s little garden. If only he knew that his “master” (Louis insisted the nickname) was as great as he was witnessing now (all sweaty but still killing it out there), Harry would have exerted more effort to learn the sport.

The crowd added to how surreal the whole event was. The stadium was only half-full yet the cheer for Louis’ team was outrageous. It was ear-deafening and absolutely shook the stadium whenever Louis and his mates would hit a goal. It pricked Harry’s guilt that he couldn’t be one of those who screamed their lungs out.

He had to do something. Anything.

Honestly, he could even hear Zayn and Liam’s shouting from where he was standing. They were at least three rows away from Harry, and although Harry didn’t want to be alone, Louis offered him the special seat (exclusive for the team players’ family) and would not take no for an answer. Liam was a bit reluctant at first, but Harry eventually gave him a thumbs up. He wouldn’t pass the opportunity to be considered (even for just hours) as Louis’ family. For some reason, it gave him a pleasant feeling inside his chest.

Suddenly, an idea struck and Harry had to scramble backwards to grab his trusty sketchpad and his marker which he hoped has enough ink left.

Harry sat down on the bench for a bit, uncapping the marker and started writing as big and as neatly as possible. While doing it, Louis infuriatingly had to score a fucking goal and made the crowd burst into their wildest cheer yet, making a letter in Harry’s poster all squiggly. Harry looked up to the jumping lad beside him with his most menacing stare but he seemed to be too ignorant with his eyes never leaving the field. This was actually good because Harry suddenly realised that he couldn’t talk to someone, let alone pick a fight.

Harry didn’t have the time to change the messed up part of his poster because in the big screen, he saw that Louis was at it again, the ball in his feet, aiming for another goal, and getting nearer and nearer towards the other end of the field. He drained the marker out of its ink, threw it away, stood up with the rest of the crowd, smiled his biggest yet, and held the piece of paper as high as his arms could stretch.

_TEACH ME, MASTER_

It was just in time, Louis directing his piercing gaze to Harry’s position at the benches. Harry knew that Louis did read his poster because all of a sudden, Louis broke into fits of laughter in the middle of the field, his eyes crinkling, his head thrown back, and his hands clapping furiously, not bothering to hide his lovely set of teeth, as if intentionally wanting everyone to see it.

Harry’s heart went to full alert, realizing that _he_ caused this – he was the reason why Louis was so genuinely happy right now. With the very thought, a very strong emotion overwhelmed Harry that he had to clutch his shirt over his chest, trying to fight back the blush that he knew that was coming.

And just then, Louis had to give him the fucking wink.

The tension immediately seeped out of Harry’s body, and turned into a bubble of giggles. He knew he could count on Louis to save the day when it’s just begun to go for the worse. He was not prepared to confront all these nameless feelings inside him just yet, and although Louis may have not realised it, he was always helping Harry to take in things one at a time. To live in the moment and just have the time of your life.

Harry smiled from where he was standing, and Louis gave him a short salute, getting back in the game once more. Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He just hoped for Louis to realise that he was making Harry genuinely happy, too.

***

Zayn never thought in his whole life that he could shout this much. His throat was starting to get raspy (and he couldn’t even remember the last time he smoked, for fuck’s sake) but he couldn’t give a damn. He was buzzing, and he couldn’t let himself lose to Liam’s crazy screaming.

What Louis said in the car was actually fucking true: Liam should resign being a doctor and turn into a fucking screaming machine. Zayn honestly thought that Liam could actually pull it off. Or maybe, like a cheerleader – the only thing lacking Liam was a pair of pompoms, to be honest. That led Zayn into imagining his psychiatrist in a tight girly shirt with a matching frilly skirt and – fuck, no inappropriate thoughts now, Zayn, you’re in public, Zayn thought.

“He’s smashing it, right now, innit?”

Liam first had to put both of his flailing arms down before looking at Zayn with gleeful eyes and shit-eating grin and said, “What’s that?”

“I said Louis’ smashing it!”

“Oh yeah. He’s amazing at footie since we were in grade school. This is actually the one thing about him that I’m actually proud of,” Liam replied jokingly.

“He can be a proper footie star with how this match is going, you know.”

“Yes, that’s quite true but right now, he’s tied to being my secretary. Well, more or less,” Liam chuckled.

Zayn tried not to gaze at the smile crinkling his doctor’s face but it was really something new and he would regret his whole life if he missed the chance of seeing Liam overwhelmed with emotions.

Zayn, as difficult as it is, turned his attention back to Louis, and fuck – the loud, boisterous thing that always screws his quiet mornings was really unbelievably good.  Louis could play and he could play _great_.

Louis stole the ball from player number 14 of the other team and was running towards the goal. Zayn noticed that he was gripping the railing as hard as Liam but he didn’t care. He couldn’t honestly give a flying fuck if he looked bonkers by jumping up and down (although not as fast and hard as Liam – now _that’s_ crazy) because Louis was fucking killing it. Louis was almost there, and he only needed to get past two more blokes and the upper half of the field was wide open and then Louis was there all of a sudden and then he was kicking faster than ever before and number 14 couldn’t even fucking outrun him and then Louis was in front of the goalie and then he was kicking it and then –

The stadium roared with him.

It was deafening and he was in high spirits – too high in spirits that he didn’t even realize that he was actually hugging Liam and Liam was hugging him back (the idiot still screaming) and it was _delightful_.

The day couldn’t get any better than this.

***

“I’m waiting for your profession of undying love for me, Haz. And probably a confession of how fucking fantastic you found me at the field this morning as well,” Louis announced, his voice echoing through the walls of the corridor of the institution. Harry giggled a bit at the remark because Louis was _really_ fucking fantastic back there, and he wouldn’t mind paying a compliment to his friend’s skills but to be honest, Louis’ ego did not need any more stroking. It would go straight to his already big head.

“But seriously, how was I?” Louis said, overtaking Harry and then turning around, walking backwards, in effort to look at Harry’s face.

Harry felt his cheeks redden the instant Louis focused his sparkling blue eyes to his. Well, it wasn’t exactly his fault that he found Louis very attractive. Those hip-hugging black shorts were to die for. And not to mention the profuse sweating that Harry annoyed the most because it was fucking sweat for fuck’s sake. It didn’t come near the things Harry found attractive about people but he surprisingly did. And Louis’ mud-stained uniform. Don’t even get me started on that, Harry thought.

God, what would Liam think? Harry was fortunate that Liam allowed him to go to the match without Niall, but he would damn well be pushing his luck if his psychiatrist would find out about his  unhealthy, little crush. Alright, maybe not so little. But definitely unhealthy. It’s all that Harry could ever think about. 

_You played good_

Louis looked affronted, “What do you mean ‘good’? I totally smashed it!”

_Yeah, yeah_

“You better give me some lovin’, mate, because I’m slowly thinking that maybe accompanying you to your room isn’t such a good idea,” Louis murmured, purposely screeching his trainers against the inconspicuously white tiles of the floor. Harry found it annoying and adorable at the same time.

_Well. What do you want me to say?_

“That I’m the best footie player you have ever seen.”

_David Beckham, sorry_

“Oh my god, Harold! You’re one of them! He’s just good-looking, can’t you tell?” Harry had to stop walking for a split second to prevent a burst of laughter coming out of his throat. It’s been a while since he saw Louis this enraged about something. Oddly enough, it seemed as if Louis took his remark seriously because of how red his face was.

_Well, he is the best AND he is good-looking_

“Oh shut up, Harold.”

_Alright, alright_

_Louis Tomlinson is the best footie player I have ever seen._

Louis broke into a smile (god, he’s such a kid – he never fails to surprise Harry with his mood swings) and advised, “Add ‘and will ever be seeing’ right at the end, Haz.”

_You can’t guarantee that_

“Yes, but you love me,” Louis grinned. Harry would have loved to reply _yes I do, Louis, god help me_ but settled for uncapping his marker instead and writing the phrase Louis suggested. This wasn’t a time for an emotional breakdown (with which Harry was sure that would happen eventually if he keep on thinking about love and all the horrifying things that come with it), or a realization of all these _feelings_ he had for Louis. Louis was nothing short of a wonderful friend, and Harry would never, _ever_ let these feelings get in the way between the two of them. He couldn’t let it happen again. He’d rather squash all these emotions and be the nice friend Louis wanted to have.

_Louis is the BEST footie player I have ever seen and will ever be seeing –Harry_

“Aww, you’re such a darling,” Louis giggled, pinching both of Harry’s cheeks. It stung for a while and it might probably coloured them red which could actually be a very convincing excuse if someone happened to stumble upon them by chance and wondered why Harry was furiously blushing.

_You happy now?_

“Yes, very. I’ll take that, if you don’t mind. I’m thinking of a beige frame for this. It would look nice, wouldn’t it?” Louis replied, catching Harry off-guard by ripping the page from the sketchpad, folding it nicely, and then putting it in his pocket.

Harry didn’t have the time to reply to Louis because the two of them found themselves already standing in front of Harry’s (and Niall’s) door. Harry frowned. The walk should have been longer – it just had to be. He couldn’t remember how many times he trudged along the blasted hallway of the institution and kept on thinking how fucking ridiculously long it was. He even counted the steps 417 from the lounge, 914 from the lobby) sometimes out of sheer boredom because really, it was that damn long. So, why did it feel like it suddenly became the shortest corridor walk ever?

The door suddenly flew open and showed Niall with the most serious face Harry had seen in his entire life. The blond Irish stepped out, snatching Harry with his left arm around the boy’s shoulders, guiding him towards the inside of the room. Harry tried to struggle from his roommate’s – because seriously, Niall was going psycho on him all of a sudden and he didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye to Louis (well, technically, just a wave) – but Niall’s grip was just too fucking strong. “Say goodnight to Mr. Tomlinson, Curly. Quickly, now. That’s it for tonight.”

***

Niall failed to drown the laugh that was attempting to burst out from him as soon as he saw Harry’s face. Really, he got his laughing thing under control for days now but Harry’s face – those sad eyes and the frown – triggered it once more because honestly, it was fucking ridiculous. Niall, being the cupid that he really was, knew of that look. It was what all star-crossed lovers don on their slightly pathetic faces when the other is forced to leave and be apart.

“Okay, I’m giving you five minutes, and that’s it,” Niall lectured Harry seriously. Niall turned around and was unsurprised that Louis was still there who appeared to be eagerly waiting – like he knew Harry was definitely going to turn back. Christ, teenagers these days.

Niall pushed Harry towards Louis and said, “Five minutes, Tommo. Do anything stupid and you won’t be hearing from my princess again.”

“You’re not Harry’s dad, Niall,” Louis rolled his eyes.

“Don’t argue with me, young man.”

“Alright, alright. Yes sir.”

“Okay, good. I’m just next door and I’m quicker than a melting butter underneath a thousand suns, you hear me?”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Niall-”

“Make it quick, darling,” Niall directed to Harry who was fighting the urge to blush and giggle at the same time. Niall was biting back more laughter because god, it was so much fun poking around these two. It was sickeningly amusing, really.

Harry and Louis are Niall’s best project yet.

***

The door finally shut behind Harry.

Louis was smiling at him and he was not sure if he was smiling back but all he could hear was the loud pounding in his chest. He was nervous for some reason, his grip in his marker and sketchpad slowly loosening. Louis must have noticed it and cleared his throat.

Harry felt like he had to do something. He just couldn’t take it if Louis would do something for him again (Harry had a good feeling Louis would crack a stupid joke to dispel the tension) – he felt like he owed him this new (and exciting?) life already and he couldn’t let Louis do every little thing for him all the time. Harry bit his lip, thinking that friendship is a two-way street and he couldn’t be the receiver all the time. He had to move and initiate things once in a while. Harry started writing.

_Thank you. For today_

A pleasant sensation seeped through Harry’s entire body as he saw Louis broke into his sweetest smile yet – and oh, he couldn’t be feeling like this. He couldn’t be bloody _falling_ for his new best friend. He shouldn’t want to be the only one seeing that smile, to be the only reason for that smile. That would ruin everything.

“Did you have fun, at least?” Louis voice cut through Harry’s trail of thought.

_Loads_

“So, um Harry. I just wanted to say–”

“Four minutes and seventeen seconds!” Niall’s muffled voice was heard. Louis rolled his eyes, chuckling a bit while Harry merely shrugged. He would get used to Niall’s spontaneity soon.

“Well, this wouldn’t take _that_ long, I think.”

Louis, always the surprise, put his hands on Harry’s shoulder, his grip not too firm and not too weak – just right. Enough for Harry to feel that pleasant sensation again (only doubled) but not enough to scare him away. Harry looked at him in a daze, his heart thundering in his chest. He felt Louis take a sharp breath, as he felt himself losing his at Louis’ reaction. Harry was so wrapped up in everything that he didn’t even notice that Louis was closing in, his beautiful face leaning in further, moving closer and closer to Harry’s. Louis’s breath blew gently against Harry’s face, and it smelled wonderful and pleasantly warm against Harry’s cold skin. Harry was lost by his scent, filling his head like a smoke, fogging up any other thought – every single sane thought he had left. Harry unconsciously closed his eyes, more of a reflex than anything, before Louis ultimately closed the distance between them.

Louis captured Harry’s lips with his own and Harry had to focus in standing because every single fibre in his body was electrified – his pulse going at an outstanding speed with the feeling of Louis’ lips against his. Neither of them moved but Harry felt Louis smile a little who pulled back slightly but came back for it again not a split-second later. Harry felt his mouth water at the unfamiliar sensation and it wasn’t confidence (Harry had none of that), but intense temptation that urged him to push his lips against Louis’ a little harder.

And, oh it was amazing.

After a few moments, the need to breathe came in and the two of them separated. Harry felt a blush dominate his cheeks, and while Louis had just a slight tinge, the lad still wore the same sweet smile earlier.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

If Niall later asked why he was still outside their room, unmoving and staring at the space where Louis was standing, Harry chose not to answer.

***

Louis’ football match, as much as Liam hated to admit it, was inexplicably godsend. He and Zayn had so much fun during the game that his patient even presented to drop him by his office before going to his own room. Imagine that, Zayn with the worst anger issues from all of his patients, offering a walk.

And it was actually a pleasant walk, to be honest.

Liam’s constant worry for Zayn dissipated slowly and turned into something comfortable as they walked side by side, talking about the match. It was (surprisingly) comfortable – Zayn’s presence. Words kept spilling from him and Zayn (bless him) maintained his enthusiasm in joining Liam with his small talk with a lovely smile.

“–and that kick on the last quarter, Zayn. Unbelievable, wasn’t it?”

The keys on Liam’s hand jingled but he failed to insert it in the doorknob when Zayn suddenly spun him around in one swift motion. Zayn was smiling genuinely at him – definitely not his usual smirk.

A clang echoed through the silent corridor as Liam's set of keys fall hopelessly from his hand, in time with the defenses he didn't realize he had put up. Zayn's soft lips rolled against his, and it was perfect, and Liam couldn't help but shudder with the thought that it was true - what the good books always tell when the main characters start kissing - the fireworks, the butterflies, the sparks, and all that sort of thing. His personal space was intruded by Zayn's overpowering presence, his favorite patient stepping in closer and closer, without breaking their lips apart. Liam didn't mind it one bit, and even met Zayn halfway, taking a step towards him, all of his inhibitions flying out of the window.

Liam kissed Zayn back, his lips not as insistent as Zayn's but just as eager. He let Zayn do what he likes, and it sped his heart to an impossible rate when Zayn darted his tongue to slide it across Liam's upper lip. Liam must have moaned a little too loud since Zayn stopped for a moment, his eyes opening and showing his wonderful, dilated pupils were mixed with amusement.  Zayn fought back a small chuckle and then dived back in, his hands now cupping Liam's face - trapping him effectively. Whatever Zayn was planning, Liam was surprisingly ready for it, and met him open-mouthed, their breaths mingling together and tongues fighting for dominance. Liam decided to let Zayn win, and it was probably the best decision he had ever made in his entire life because it was absolutely glorious - Zayn's tongue sweeping the roof of his mouth, slowly as if Zayn was savoring every moment, mapping the entire of Liam's mouth.

The two of them kissed and kissed and kissed for a good whole minute - all the time they've spent dancing around together, all the tension finally seeping out from the two of them in the form of this perfect kiss. It came to a natural close, Zayn stealing one last peck, and then resting his forehead against Liam. Liam opened his eyes, his vision zoning in at Zayn's gorgeous face - his long eyelashes, his sharp cheekbones, his slightly swollen lips (oh, god, I caused that, Liam thought) that donned a small smile.

"Goodnight, Liam."

Zayn's retreating figure was Liam's last memory of him for the rest of the night, but it was not the one he'll be replaying in his mind over and over again before he go to sleep. Liam had an array of moments that transpired earlier to choose from and he suspected it would most definitely be the kiss.

Zayn kissed him.

And it was bliss. 


End file.
